Archive of Our Own ^beta

He still can’t believe that he’d never noticed you before because now he notices you everywhere. He finds himself blushing like a teenager every time he catches your eye across the dining hall or passes you in the street, too shy to stop and say hello, nevertheless thrilled just at the sight of your warm smile. Each fleeting glance is enough to tide him over till the next time he gets to be alone with you.

Which just so happens to be today. 

“Shit...Jooooel!” 

Ellie’s voice calls out from the living room and Joel rushes in from the kitchen, paternal panic kicking in at the sound of her shouting his name.

“What’s up? You okay?” he demands, finding her lying on the floor with her stubby arm stuck under the couch, reaching in vain for something underneath and staring up at him helplessly.

“Fuckin’ switchblade slid under the couch,” she grumbles, voice straining as she stretches her arm as far as it can go before being cut off by her shoulder.

Joel rolls his eyes, relieved at least that nothing is actually wrong. 

“Right - watch out,” he instructs her and she retracts her arm just in time for Joel to hunch forward and lift the edge of the couch up off the floor, giving her access to snatch the blade up from underneath.

Once she’s standing, Joel carefully places the feet of the couch back onto the hardwood with ease, grimacing only the tiniest bit. 

“Damn,” Ellie comments as she takes in his efforts. “That massage lady really did a number on you, huh?”

Joel’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull, his mind going blank for a moment as he ponders the double meaning in her words.

“Uhhh...”

He shifts awkwardly where he stands and Ellie’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Just...’cause I haven’t seen you lift something like that in a while,” she goes on, gauging Joel’s bizarre reaction as he shakes his head to try and regain his composure. “You seem a lot better is all.”

Joel clears his throat and finally pulls himself together.

“Yeah, she - uh - she’s great,” is his thoughtful response.

Ellie gives him a dubious look, flipping the switch blade in her hands and giving him a smirk.

“Well thanks for the help, old man,” she tells him. “Are you gonna go back?”

Joel nods, wringing his hands together nervously at the reminder. “Uh-huh, yeah, uh, this afternoon."

“Cool,” Ellie grins, slumping down into the couch and kicking her feet up on the coffee table, oblivious to Joel’s reeling. “Have fun,” she adds for good measure.

Well, “fun” is one way to put what he’s got planned for you.

He hasn’t got it all figured out just yet, but he very much intends on picking up where the two of you left things last time. 

-

The first time he’d been in your doorway, Joel had been a nervous wreck, skeptical - hell, he’d go so far as to say he’d been shaking in his goddamn boots over the idea of having a stranger’s hands on him.

‘Course, he’s still fucking nervous as all hell, but now, he knows better. Your hands aren’t strangers to him anymore, he knows what they can do. He’s also prepared for the sight of your delighted smile when you swing open the door - he knows what it can do too - because it has him smiling right back the minute he sees it.

“Joel,” you greet him, beaming at the sight of his weathered face; it’s the first time you’ve seen up close in days.

“Hi,” he says, almost sighs. 

“I missed you,” you tell him earnestly, and Joel’s heart just about leaps right out of his chest. It’s so genuine, so pure in your soft, lilting voice. He’d been worried, maybe, that you’d have regrets about how the last session had ended, if things would still feel the same when he finally came back. You instantly put that fear to rest. 

“Well, I - I’m back,” he stammers for lack of a better response. 

I missed you too, his brain screams at him. Why didn’t you say you missed her too?

You don’t seem bothered though; you just keep shooting him that same winning smile that has him feeling somewhat giddy, vastly more eager to get inside and get started than he had been last week.

“I’m so glad. Come on in,” you say with a welcoming gesture as Joel follows you inside. You lock the door behind you. Joel’s your last client of the day again. Last time, that had been sheer luck on your part. This time, it’s strategic. 

“So, how’s it been since we last saw each other?” you muse as you lead him towards his now-usual table. “Feeling better, I hope?”

That’s an understatement. 

“You got no idea, sweetheart,” he says with a disbelieving shake of his head, not shying away from the endearment this time. It slips from his lips naturally anyway, and just as before, you don’t seem to mind.

He’s comfortable here now, the scent of your candles invoking the sense memory of your hands on his back, his nerves easily being replaced with anticipation at the thought. 

“How’s your mobility?”

Joel awkwardly lifts his arms above his head, makes a little show of twisting his spine from left to right. He still winces a bit when he takes it too far but even so, you raise your eyebrows, impressed, when he bends over to almost touch his toes. 

“Very good, Joel,” you praise him when he straightens out and he practically beams, a lop-sided smile pulling at his lips. 

“Were you sore at all the next day?” you ask. “I’m sorry if you were.” You hadn’t been too hard on him, but you’d gone pretty deep in certain spots. For a first-timer, it might have been a lot. 

“Bit, yeah,” he admits. 

“And how’s the pain now?”

Joel shrugs like he can hardly believe it himself when he says, “Still there, but not much.”

Now it’s your turn to smile, a big, beatific thing that has Joel’s heart panging as your feet unconsciously carry you closer to him. 

“That makes me so happy,” you gush.

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, me too.”

You choose not to mention anything about what had come after the massage - but you’re definitely both thinking about it. Because then your arms outstretch towards him seemingly of their own volition, fingers nearly making contact with his thick arms, covered in warm, green plaid, before you stop yourself suddenly. 

“Okay, well,” you say, stepping back and clasping your hands together in front of you to keep from reaching out to him again. “You know the drill, I’ll just, uh, duck out for a second and let you...”

Your voice trails off when you see Joel’s smile fade and his brows furrow together. He clears his throat awkwardly. 

“I was kinda thinkin’...you don’t - I mean you don’t have to,” he suggests, his gaze dropping to the floor. “You could - stay.”

Your eyes widen. It’s quiet for a moment as you consider it, Joel’s eyes never looking up from his boots. 

“I mean, you’ve - you’ve seen it all already, right?” he mumbles, smirk playing at the corners of his mouth again. He feels a little stupid now that he’s saying it out loud, even though he’d imagined every moment of this a million times since last week. 

“It’s not exactly...professional,” you confess unwillingly.

He’d kind of been expecting that response, if he’s honest. He looks up from under his lashes then, finally catching your eyes, expression somewhat sheepish.

“I think we gave up on ‘professional’ already, didn’t we, sweetheart?”

Your breath leaves you in a shaky laugh, a sound that seems to put Joel at ease, his face softening as the two of you share another shy smile. 

“Guess you’re right,” you concede as you inch closer to him again. You finally let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, trailing them slowly down his arms. God, you’d missed having your hands on him. It seems to awaken something in both of you, the moment feeling noticeably more charged. 

“Let me...let me help,” you suggest softly. 

Joel’s breath catches - he hadn’t imagined that. He nods easily though, of course he does.

“Okay,” he croaks. 

Joel stands frozen in place as your hands snake back up his biceps, tracing over his chest before slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. His eyes remain fixed on your fingers as you undress him, swallowing harshly when you reach the last button. You slide your hands under the fabric, easing flannel up over his shoulders and down his arms. It falls to the floor unceremoniously. 

Joel’s heart pounds when you hook your fingers under the hem of his thermal then, languidly lifting it up over his soft belly. You both laugh when you clumsily try to raise it over his head, the sleeves getting caught on his thick arms and mussing up his salt-and-pepper curls in the process. 

Your eyes rake over his bare chest and Joel finds he doesn’t feel nearly as self-conscious about being exposed in front of you this time. Now he relishes the way you openly blink at the muscles of his arms, the soft flesh of his tummy, the gentle curve of his hips dipping below the waistband of his jeans. 

His breath stutters when you drop to your knees to untie his bootlaces, stumbling a bit as he steps out of them one at a time. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, Joel begins to unbutton his jeans then, but your hands grip his wrists, stopping him.

“What...” he shakes his head, confused.

You glance up at him with a sly smile. “I got it.”

Joel gasps shallowly when your fingers take over, his hands feebly falling to his sides as you finish what he started, unzipping his fly and taking his breath away completely when you yank his jeans down to his ankles.

He hasn’t invested in any boxers since last week.

From where you’re situated on the floor before him, his semi-hard cock is right at your eyeline, close enough to your lips that Joel can’t help but conjure up the image of you leaning over him one week ago, his length filling your mouth as you’d -

Fuck. His dick twitches in your face, an involuntary thing that you both catch. Joel gawks down at you as you smirk up at him. 

“Alright,” you purr lightly, bracing your hands on his hips, thumbs squishing into the soft flesh of his belly as you rise back to your feet and gesture towards the massage table. “Face down, Mr. Miller.”

As if you could somehow make up for all the lost professionalism with a simple prefix.

You turn away to at least let him get comfortable, setting your kitchen timer to one hour and coating your hands with the same oil you’d used last time, the one you now affectionately think of as exclusively Joel’s. 

Joel, meanwhile, stands over the table, wringing his hands together and contemplating his next move. The sheet’s there, just as it had been last time. He considers it briefly before ultimately deciding to ignore it, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves as he lays out on his tummy, bare.

You listen for the moment he descends onto the table, gasping quietly when you turn to face him. You’d been gearing up to see that beautiful back of his again, but you hadn’t been prepared for the sight of his perfectly curved ass, plump and round behind him, deliciously plush yet still impressively lean for a man of his age.

How are you supposed to avoid staring at that?

You approach him on shaky legs, closing the space between you when you finally lay your oiled hands on his tan flesh.

You distinctly remember how he’d tensed at your touch last week. This time, he seems to soften, sighing into the face cradle as you glide your fingertips languidly between his shoulder blades, reacquainting yourself with the thick muscles of his back. It’s much easier to palpate for potential knots this way, when he’s not stiff as a board and resistant. 

You find that he hadn’t been exaggerating - things feel much better than they had before, though you know he still needs work. One session alone isn’t going to solve the years of built-up tension that Joel Miller’s been living with. You’re determined to help him feel brand new, to bring back that smile, that bliss he’d radiated after your last appointment. You want that for him always. Even more, you want to be the reason for it.

“How’s that feel, Joel?” you hum as you begin to apply more pressure.

“Little harder,” he finds himself saying. You cock your eyebrows, endeared by his confidence. Joel can hardly believe it either, but he means it. He’s ready for more from you, a lot more.

You lean deeper into your steady motions, eliciting tiny, ragged grumbles of relief from the man. Several moments pass before he finally speaks again. 

“I...couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” Joel sighs as your fingers take their place on his lower back, so enticingly close to the meaty flesh of his ass. Your breath hitches at his words, your hands faltering as Joel works to reign himself in. “I mean, I - you’re just really good at th - ”

His last word is cut off by a pleasant groan as you press your thumbs into a knot in his low back, breaking apart the last remnants of tension there.

You smile, both at the compliment and his sounds of pleasure, sounds that act as a reminder of how your last session had ended. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you either, Joel,” you confess, working your fingers meticulously into the muscles above his ass, right into that spot you know makes him go weak. As you’d hoped, Joel groans softly in response.

Joel’s enraptured by your touch, can feel his cock stiffening against the mattress. This time, he doesn’t panic; this time he welcomes it. Lust clouds his mind as he says what he’s been longing to since he left you last week.

“Kept thinkin’ how it...wasn’t fair I didn’t get to return the favour.”

Your pulse quickens; Joel is definitely feeling braver this time around.

“Well I was just - ”

“Just happy to help, I know,” Joel smiles into the face cradle. “Sweet thing.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as you burn hot at his words, taking the opportunity to shift so you’re standing over his head, sliding your hands downward into the centre of his back, up and over his shoulders, repeating that motion a few leisurely times. Joel sighs, a contented, relaxed sound that has your tummy fluttering, while the ever-present sight of his broad back and his stupidly distracting ass is starting to make your brain so slightly fuzzy; you wonder if can Joel feel your hands shaking. 

But Joel doesn’t notice a thing. Joel is falling back into that familiar trance, slave to your touch. Although you’ve barely just begun, he finds he can’t hold himself back any longer. 

You watch as he uncertainly shifts on the mattress, slowly unlatching his arms from his sides, his face still planted as he moves to blindly hover his hands over your thighs. When you don’t flinch away, he rests his palms there, big fingers clutching gently at the clothed skin on the sides of your legs.

Your heart stutters, sparks flying to your core, your massaging finally coming to an abrupt halt when he moves his hands upwards over your hips.

He stiffens when you step away then, taking your hands with you. He tilts his face upwards, cheeks red where they’ve been smushed against the cradle. You see the worry in his eyes, the panic that perhaps he’d overstepped his boundaries, the apology already brewing in his throat.

You put him at ease before it can escape. 

“Turn over, Joel,” you say, voice commanding, probably the most commanding you’ve ever been with him. Still soft, delicately sweet and enticing, but enough that Joel obeys without question, flipping over on the table and - for some reason - sitting up to swing his legs over the side of it.

He keeps his eyes fixed on you as you round the table to face him. He involuntarily reaches out to you and you let him, his hands resting on either side of your waist lightly, heat emanating from his palms and through the thin fabric of your shirt.

He’s hard, that much is evident, thick cock glaring at you between your bodies. Your heart hammers away noisily in your ears, recalling the memory of how his length had felt in your hands and between your lips, everywhere except the one place you’re aching for it now. 

“Joel...” 

He shudders - wants desperately for you to touch him again but lets you make the next move, patiently curious as he watches you. You rest your hands on his thighs making goosebumps sprouting on his skin and Joel’s pulse to quicken perceptibly. 

His eyes flutter shut then as you lean forward, his own body drifting towards yours unconsciously. You hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss him last time, and now, as his warm breath fans over your face and his masculine scent encompasses the space around you, you’re really starting to regret that. 

You don’t kiss him though - not yet - you just put your lips so, so close to his, as close as you can without really touching. Then, you move your hands to grip one of his wrists and begin digging your slick thumbs into his forearm, a technique you didn’t have time to try last week. It evokes exactly the response you’d hoped for.

“Oh, fuck...” Joel breathes against your mouth, his eyes flitting down to watch you work your thumbs up and down his arm, from his wrist to his bicep and back again.

“Good?” you hum.

Joel just nods, lips skirting over yours as he does. He can’t even form the words to answer you, dizzy from the proximity and how fucking good your fingers feel on his aching forearm. He hadn’t even known he’d been hurting there. 

You know he’d more comfortable if he was lying on his back, but Joel seems to be melting regardless, lips parted against your mouth when you repeat the action on his other arm.

You steal each ragged sigh that slips from his lips as you break apart deep-seated knots in the working man’s arms. 

“Joel,” you whisper then, when the sensation of his mouth on yours and his cock hard and leaking before you becomes too much. “Maybe we could just...finish this session upstairs.”

“What’s upstairs?” he asks dumbly. 

“My bedroom?” Joel can feel your grin as your lips brush on his. 

“Oh,” he breathes, air leaving his lungs in a stuttering huff before he begins nodding perhaps a little too eagerly. “Yeah. Yes.”

It’s probably a sight to behold from the outside, you leading a naked Joel Miller by the hand through your home and up the stairs to your bedroom. Joel’s aware of it too, thinks the whole scene must look completely ridiculous. Fortunately, he’s hard-up enough to not give much of a fuck.

Your bedroom is pretty much exactly what he’d expected, but that doesn’t make it any less adorably alluring. Your walls are littered with a chaotic mix of artwork, everything from handmade textiles to sweeping tapestries, one which covers the entire west facing wall. Flowers and plant life fill the empty spaces, your bedspread an inviting orange hue that reminds Joel of a comforting sunset. Thinks it’s pretty fitting for you.

He doesn’t feel the smile that’s spread across his face, but you certainly see it.

“It’s a bit much, sorry,” you murmur, but Joel is already tugging on your hand, imploring you to face him.

He disagrees. He thinks it’s perfect.

“Can I kiss you, darlin’?”

You gasp quietly but nod without question. It’s the easiest “yes” of your life.

Your eyes stay fixed on his lips until the moment they meet yours. Then your lids fall closed as your mouth dissolves into his. It’s been a while, for you and him both; Joel can barely remember where to put his hands. So as usual, yours all over him, exploring the expanse of his broad chest, his neck, his patchy-bearded face. Joel’s hands float over your waist uncertainly as you take it upon yourself to strip off your clothes, finally taking his wrists in your hands and maneuvering him so his fingers rest over the bare skin of your back.

That flips the switch.

Joel comes to life then, his arms tightening around you and his body crushing against yours, a quiet moan catching in his throat when his tongue slips between your lips. Your legs wobble but it’s still not enough.

“You can touch me, Joel,” you breathe into him, gasping for air when Joel’s mouth wanders along your jawline.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he sighs. “Haven’t done this in a while.”

You smile that same warm smile that Joel’s grown so fond of, though it’s clouded by the dangerous glint of lust in your eyes. 

“That’s okay,” you assure him. “Me neither, honey.”

Joel’s heart falters for a moment before starting up again. He can’t remember the last time someone called him anything other than his name. Or ‘old man.’ Or, most often, ‘asshole.’

But honey. You’d called him honey.

“Sweetheart,” he says reverently then, his hands finding either side of your face, big brown eyes locking with yours. “I would - I would really like to make you feel good. Can I do that for you?”

Your air leaves your lungs in a shaky exhale and you nod, uttering a soft, “yes, please, Joel” as you lean forward to fuse your mouths together once more. Joel brushes his fingers over your cheekbones, gentle but tough from the callouses there, fire burning in their wake as they trail over your face and run through your hair. 

Joel breaks the kiss all too soon though. “Lie down,” he whispers into the hollow of your ear.

You nod again, instantly responding to the quiet authority in his voice. You do as he says, excited by the sudden role reversal, to be the one laid out for him. The vision of Joel standing over you has you positively aching as wetness gathers in your centre.

Joel’s already dizzy with arousal, hasn’t stopped dreaming about this moment since he’d left you last week, when he’d been too blissed-out to give you what he’d known you deserved, to give back to you even a fraction of the pleasure you’d given him.

And, sure, maybe it’s been a while since he’s had his mouth on a beautiful woman, but he’s pretty certain he’s still got it.

You sit up on your elbows to watch Joel situate himself between your legs, spreading them wide and snaking his palms up your inner thighs. You shiver at his touch, the way his eyes glaze over at the sight of your glistening heat, your arms giving out under you when he ducks forward to swipe his tongue languidly from your centre to your clit.

“Fuck - ” you keen, cut off by a choked gasp when Joel circles his tongue delicately over your clit, tantalizing motions that make your centre pulse, wetness dripping out of you and onto your sheets.

Yeah, Joel’s definitely still got it.

He hums against you, lips puckering over your folds as he tears himself away to kiss your mound. “Taste as sweet as I thought you would, sweet girl.”

You manage a lop-sided smile, already feeling fuzzy. “You - you thought about it?”

Joel’s hands splay out over your stomach, big palms taking up your flesh and  finding your breasts. Your head falls back into the pillow behind you when his fingers rake over your pebbled nipples.

“’Course I did, gorgeous,” he assures you, stubble dragging over the sensitive skin of your thighs, teeth nipping into it lightly, retaliation for the gentle bite you’d given his belly last week - he hasn’t forgotten. “Couldn’t wait to get my mouth on this pussy. So pretty and wet for me. Fuck.”

He can hardly believe he’s gotten so lucky.

You moan faintly when his lips find your heat again, his wide tongue licking greedily at the wetness there, exploring your folds like a man starved - which, to be fair, he is. He’s missed this, missed being between the legs of a woman, missed the salty-sweet scent of slick coating his moustache. He was good at this, a long time ago, or so he’d always been told. Beyond that, though, he’d loved it, loved making his partners squirm beneath him, eliciting delicious sounds of pleasure that would ring out like church bells in his ears.

The sounds you make are especially intoxicating. He aches to hear more.

“That feel nice, sweetheart?” Joel asks, turning the tables as he removes his mouth to graze his fingers over you, calloused pads making gentle contact with your clit before he slips a thick digit into your centre, right to the knuckle.

Your air leaves your lungs in a quick exhale, hushed, “Joel!” tumbling from your mouth when he slides his finger out and back in perniciously, his eyes fixed on your face.

He grins at the sight of you features contorted in ecstasy, your eyelids sealed shut, your hands gripping the orange bedspread. 

“There?” he presses, once again echoing your voice from last week when he adds a second finger, hooking them inside you and hitting that spot he’s never had trouble finding. Your walls flutter around him in response, noisy moan catching in your throat.

“Right there, Joel,” you choke breathily. “S’good. I can...I can take more.”

Your head is spinning, hips jutting involuntarily into his hand, pining desperately for it.

Joel chuckles in wonder. “Bet you can,” he agrees, slipping a third finger into your heat.

Fuck, but you’re tight. You stretch around him beautifully, keening and squirming when he anchors his digits inside you, ducking back down to tease your clit with his tongue again.

“Yesyesyes,” you whine softly. “Like that, Joel.”

He hums approvingly, vibrations coursing through you as heat builds in your tummy, threatening to erupt with each virtuosic flick of his tongue over your clit, every thoughtful crook of his fingers inside you, every chanced glance upwards when his attentive brown eyes meet yours. 

But it’s his smile, that sweet curve of his lips against you when you meet his gaze that sends you over the edge. Joel keeps the flat of his tongue planted on you when you come into his mouth, a cacophony of cries falling from your parted lips as you buck up into him. He doesn’t shy away, his eyes slipping closed as he laps up everything you give him willingly, feasting on your come with rapture. 

Even when you slowly begin to come down, Joel stays where he is, fingers sliding unhurriedly out of your heat, lips pressing feather light kisses into your folds. He seems nearly as dazed as you feel, his eyes dark and cloudy, pussy-drunk for the first time in years. He could stay here forever.

Hell, he’d lick your slick clean off his fingers if it wasn’t his first time with you - as it is, he wipes them dry on your bed spread without really thinking. You don’t seem to mind (or notice).

He moves to hover over you, thick arms bracing on either side of your head, the tip of his cock prodding into your thigh and streaking precum over your skin.

“How ya feelin’, darlin’?” Joel checks in, pressing forward to kiss you like he can’t help himself. Door’s opened now; Joel’s gonna have a real hard time not kissing you from here on in. 

“Fucking amazing, Joel,” you say truthfully, beaming up at him foggily. “I...I haven’t come like that in a long time.”

“I’ll do it again for you,” he vows, lips trailing along your collarbone as serene little aftershocks move over your body in waves. “S’many times as you want.”

You chuckle hazily, pawing at his rugged face, feeling your way over his familiar neck and shoulders. Habitually, your fingers knead into the flesh there and Joel all but purrs, practically collapsing into you to connect your mouths again.

“Maybe...” you start to say breathlessly after a moment but you stop yourself as a sudden shyness takes hold.

Joel’s eyes narrow, mild concern lining his features. “What do you need? Whatever you want, sweetheart, I got you.”

What you want, increasingly so, is to make Joel feel good. However, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t also been thinking about having his cock inside you for the better part of a week now. So - 

“Would you like to fuck me, Joel?” you offer fetchingly.

Fuck.

Joel’s cock is already aching, screaming at him to say, yes. yes, a million times, yes. He can feel his eyes protruding out of their sockets and his ears burning hot, can swear you could hear his heart pounding from where you lay under him. Still, insecurity settles in his chest. He wants to trust the proposition, to trust you. Some weak, uncertain part of him still needs confirmation though. 

“Do you...do you want that?” he asks timorously. 

You see the worry in his eyes. Desperate, as ever, to put the man at ease, you grip the sides of his face and stroke your thumbs over his scarred and stubbled cheeks. 

“Very much. Yes.”

Joel nods while you bristle with anticipation, your eyes darting downward to his throbbing cock as he strokes himself between your bodies. He catches you looking, sees the hunger in your gaze. 

“Fuck...you’re so big, Joel,” you tell him with a delicious lick of your lips. 

He smirks, almost glows. ‘Course Joel knows he’s big - it’s something else he’d always been told. Hearing it from you though has his confidence soaring. Knowing you now, he wonders if you’d expected it would have that effect, if you’d known, maybe, that he’d needed it. 

It’s like muscle memory then, the way he lines himself up with your centre, slowly sinking the tip into your waiting heat, instinctively pausing to let you adjust while he loses his breath at the warm squeeze of you around him.

“S’tight - fuck,” he groans, head falling into the crook of your neck, his cock pushing ever so slightly further into you when he does. You gasp at the stretch - that perfect, long-forgotten stretch. Joel nips lovingly at your earlobe, an attempt at distraction that actually kind of works; you feel yourself relaxing, opening up around his thick girth. “M’I hurtin’ you at all, sweetheart?”

You shake your head no. “I can take it, Joel.” He grunts softly in response.

He pulls back then to watch your face as he sinks himself all the way in, filling you to the brim with his length, his mouth falling open when he bottoms out. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, takin’ me so well, baby,” he groans. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

He begins a steady pace then, moving in and out of you with painstaking care while your hands wander up and down his arms, over his shoulders and into his curls. He’s patient at first, almost timid in the steadfast snap of his hips into yours. But it doesn’t last. When you begin to whine and keen below him, silently begging for more, Joel loses focus, black pupils taking up the brown of his eyes as he yanks you closer into you, wrapping your legs around his waist and picking up speed, low grunts echoing in the room around you. He’s handsy, you notice, greedy fingers squeezing and grabbing at the flesh on your hipbones, your tummy, your thighs, your breasts - anywhere he can touch. 

Blissfully, he doesn’t forget your mouth, crashing his lips into yours whenever he remembers to, heady kisses that are all teeth and moans and need. 

You barely notice it happening but tension is building in your core again. Your grip on his shoulders tightens, nails digging into the skin there ferociously as a second orgasm threatens to overtake you. 

“Joel,” you warn him in a hushed whine. “You’re going to make me come again.”

“Fuck - sweetheart, will you do somethin’ for me when y’do?” he pants hotly into your kiss, his thrusts faltering at the promise of you coming around him. 

“Anything.” On the edge like this, you’d give your life if he asked you for it.

“Call me what you called me before,” he pleads weakly, burying his face in your hair, truthfully embarrassed by the request. He just...he needs to hear it again. “Need to hear it when you come on my cock.”

You wrack your pleasure-fogged brain trying to recall what he’s talking about. There’s only one thing he could mean, only one thing you’ve called him other than his name - “Honey?”

You feel him nod against you. “Yeah, yeah - baby - anythin’ like that,” he begs. “Sound so sweet when you say it.”

Your heart nearly explodes right out of your chest. That’s all he’d wanted? You’d give him that any day. His low voice vibrating in the hollow of your collarbone is also the final push that has your cunt constricting around him, your entire body shuddering as you come for the second time. 

“Yes - Joel, honey, fuck - I’m coming - babybabybaby - ” 

He moans feverishly into your skin, fucking you through your climax as long as he can stand it before he has to pull out, tugging at his cock till he’s spilling streaks of hot seed over your belly while you egg him on gently the entire time - “Fuck, Joel, so gorgeous when you come for me, baby.”

“Shit - sweetheart - ” he huffs with two final pumps of his cock, chest heaving with each panted breath, the features of his face twisted in pleasure as he drains himself over you.

He finds himself laughing breathily when it ends, overwhelmed and awestruck. 

“Gorgeous?” he snickers dubiously, ducking forward to nip lightly at your chin.

“It’s true,” you smile, thoughts cloudy as your fingers coil around the nape of his neck. “It’s true, honey...”

He sighs then, a peaceful, euphoric thing as he tosses himself down onto the mattress beside you. 

“M’gonna be sore again tomorrow, I guess,” he jokes. For a different reason this time.

You laugh lightly. “Yeah, me too.”

From a distance, you’re both suddenly aware of your kitchen timer going off downstairs with a loud ding!

“That’s our time,” you smirk.

“Same time next week?” he asks sanguinely, reaching across his body to gingerly hold one of your hands. Those hands...he’s starting to really fucking love those hands. He absently kisses your fingertips while you work to catch your breath.

“Or sooner,” you suggest, intertwining your fingers with his, like perhaps you could lock him in place right there beside you. “I’ve got plenty more I’d like to do for you, Joel Miller.”