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javipispunk · 1 year ago

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han. no words. i was already crying and then you just had to go and say ‘in loving memory of jimmy buffett’. sobbing right now, not even exaggerating.

i couldn’t dream of a better ending to this beautiful story. i feel like this chapter, especially the last sentence, perfectly sums up where i’m at with my life right now which makes the story so much sweeter.

your summer sun forever | joel miller x f!reader

a your summer dream one shot

your summer dream masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | follow @swiftispunkupdates and turn on notifications for updates

Have patience; here are flowers and songs of birds / Beauty and fragrance, wealth of sound and sight / All summer's glory thine from morn till night / And life too full of joy for uttered words.

–Celia Laighton Thaxter, Land-Locked

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ word count: 12.3k (of pure non-stop vibes)

series warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] we'll call him dad's buddy!joel, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/50), angst, smut (will specify with each chapter), fluff, alcohol, food, secret relationship until it's not. chapter summary: you and joel go on a weekend away, to reflect on the past and look to the future. chapter warnings etc: so much smut, so much fluff, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, edging, orgasm denial, oral cock warming, vaginal fingering, cum eating, ass play, use of a butt plug, vacation!joel is never beating the soft!dom allegations, unprotected anal sex but it happens off screen, a camera is involved, joel is a menace but we know this, one (1) use of the word "daddy," pet names, pov swapping, alcohol + food consumption, reader has hair and is described as wearing a dress, deeply unsubtle taylor swift references. some tags omitted to avoid spoilers. no use of y/n.

a/n: well, we've made it to the end (again). this time it's for real, i fear. i've had the most fun on this journey with you all. i wanted this last chapter to feel like a celebration; a proper, romantic send-off for these two. i hope you like it. thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for giving this story life and for loving these two when i didn't think anyone would. special thanks go to @joelscruff and @gasolinerainbowpuddles for reading this over and convincing me it was good, and for always reminding me it doesn't matter where you are, it matters who you're with.

two years ago

You're sitting in a sports bar in the heart of downtown Austin. The music sucks, but the food is mostly fine.

Across the table, Chris is fiddling with your ring–the one with your birthstone your parents had given you for your sixteenth birthday. He twirls it absently around your finger, pulls it up to the knuckle and slides it back down again. It's intimate and soft, and you're smiling at him fondly.

Then he tugs the band off your middle finger altogether, slips it onto your left ring finger, and the atmosphere quickly thickens. Your heart hammers as he pushes it down, coolly assessing his work.

"Why don't you wear it on this finger?" he asks, turning your palm over in his hands.

You cock your head to the side, misunderstanding. Surely he must know–

"What?" he demands when he sees the look on your face.

"Are you serious?"

Chris stares back at you dead-eyed, the picture of innocence. You suddenly want to strangle him.

"Why don't I wear my ring on this finger?" you say, snatching your hand free from his. "This one?"

Realization spreads across his features as you single out your ring finger. Your left ring finger. Realization and then horror. God, you'll never forget the horror. He's horrified at the thought of marrying you. You don't know why, but you'd always thought that one day, that horror would go away. One day, he'd be ready. You had been so sure of it.

"Oh," he grumbles, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. "Right."

"Right," you sigh as you move the band back to its usual home.

"I forgot," Chris backtracks. He reaches for your hand again. You let him hold it, but it doesn't feel intimate anymore. "No–yeah, you should–you should keep it where it is."

The server appears then to refill your water glasses, and you awkwardly break apart. The booming cock-rock pouring from the speakers above drowns out your despondent murmuring,

"Okay then," you say to no one in particular.

Chris won't hear it. He'll forget this ever happened, probably. But you won't.

today

Sometimes life really feels like a dream.

Even in the monotony, even in the mundane. The morning commutes and the tins of cat food, the Sunday afternoons spent cleaning and the Tuesday nights spent falling asleep on the couch. And it's funny, how just like a dream, you move through the days as though time means nothing at all, everything blurring together until all at once, a year has passed.

Summer blooms, softens and warms you from the inside out. The fan beside the bed you share with Joel blows cool air against your clammy skin, but is no match for the heat between your legs, the overwhelming sensation of Joel's mouth fused wetly over your cunt.

He drinks you down like you're his morning coffee, ravenous and greedy as he hooks your legs over his shoulders and snakes his arms around your thighs. But he is in no rush, languid in the way he makes out with your pussy, whimpering and groaning at every soft, needy moan he manages to draw from you.

But then you claw at his scalp, tug on those gorgeous greying curls and whine. Joel smirks.

"Impatient," he mutters.

Yeah, right. He's been lapping lazily at your cunt for the better part of twenty minutes now. You are not impatient. Luckily, as you've come to discover, Joel will never tell you no unless you ask him to.

"S'alright," he whispers, barely letting his lips leave you as he sinks two thick fingers into your core. You keen at the welcome stretch, and Joel purrs between your thighs. "Yeah, there she is. There's my fuckin' girl. You want me to make this little pussy come? Never can just wait, can ya?"

You probably could, if you really tried. But you don't feel like waiting right now.

"Waited–long enough," you groan weakly as he nudges at that perfect spot inside you. "I've been good."

You feel him smile again before he's pressing a chaste little kiss to your clit.

"Yeah, you have," he breathes, and then he gets to work.

His tongue moves in tandem with his fingers, expertly finding a familiar rhythm he knows like the back of his hand by now. In no time at all, warmth pools down your spine and settles in your tummy, courses rapidly through your veins and tenses all your muscles. You come with dazzling force, grinding your clit onto his willing tongue with that insistent fist still tangled in this hair. Joel loves that.

In these moments, the dream comes alive. The mundanity of every-day life splits open and you realize, there is in fact nothing monotonous about this life at all. How could there be? Joel is here–Joel is still here. A year since you first shook his hand in an airport parking lot, a year in which it feels as though everything has changed; through it all, Joel remains.

"Wanna take you away somewhere," he rasps as he climbs up your body to kiss and nip at the side of your face. "What do you think, gorgeous girl? Wanna come away with me?"

You're not sure if he means forever or a day.

"Yes, please," you tell him either way.

Roughly five hours from Austin is South Padre Island.

A tourist hot spot not far from the border, it's not exactly a luxurious Costa Rican resort. But as a weekend getaway for your one year anniversary with Joel, it'll do just fine. With three nights booked at an Airbnb near the coastline, you're prepared to withstand the blistering heat if it means getting away from the city for a while. If it means having Joel all to yourself for an entire weekend, back in a little bubble of paradise.

You also don't plan on wasting a single second of your time together. The freedom of vacation has seemingly invigorated both of you, and it takes until about hour two of your drive down-state for an idea to strike.

I just wanna try something, you'd said, scooting over the centre console to fuss with his belt buckle.

I'm not gonna move, I just want to keep it warm.

Joel, however baffled he is by the offer, does not say no, and it doesn't take him long to embrace it.

You're on hour three now, Joel's thick, throbbing length taking up the better part of your mouth and throat, your lips grazing his lower belly. You don't move, just revel in the feeling of the warm weight of him against your tongue, hold him there between your lips even when your jaw starts to strain. You breathe through your nose, and Joel strokes your hair with one hand, the other on the wheel.

You sigh through your nostrils, oddly comforted. It's nice feeling so close to him.

"You good?" he checks in.

"Mmmm."

Your response is all breathy and mumbled, and it makes Joel chuckle. Dull fingernails scratch gently at your scalp and your eyelids flutter closed.

"Used to come down this way all the time," Joel muses casually. Arousal courses through you, not for the first time. Your mouth is wrapped around his firm, leaking cock, drool is wetting the coarse hairs at his base, and Joel is just…chatting away.

"S'quieter in the summer, none of that spring break shit," he continues, petting the back of your head absentmindedly. "Hot as hell, though."

A quiet noise passes through your nostrils, instinct kicking in as you slowly move your lips up his shaft, tongue seeking out the precum you can just barely taste in the back of your throat. But Joel's grip in your hair tightens before you can, holding you where you are, forcing you back down.

"Don't move, sweetheart," he whispers.

You do as he says–this is exactly what you'd wanted after all–but you can't deny it's getting harder to hold back from just sucking him off properly. Not to mention your own burning arousal, the ache between your thighs that's becoming painfully difficult to ignore. You're almost starting to regret this idea. Especially since Joel seems to be having just a little too much fun driving you absolutely fucking crazy.

"Beach'll be nice," he says coolly. Your pussy clenches at the feel of his hand wrapping around the back of your neck and for a moment your mind goes blank, utterly lost in the sensation of being used. That is until Joel's voice cuts through insistently through the fog–

"Huh?" he presses you, squeezing your spine between his fingers.

"Mhm."

"Gonna fuck you all over that condo," he growls darkly. He doesn't sound casual anymore.

Fuck. Your legs squeeze together as a hapless little whimper catches in your throat, muffled around the hard length of his cock.

"Yeah?" he coos, his big hand tracing a line down your back to hike your skirt up to your waistline. "Gonna keep you stuffed all weekend, right? How's that plug feelin'?"

A needy whine spills from you as a thousand memories flood your cock-drunk brain. Joel fucking your ass this morning and plugging you full of his spend, a filthy start to what you expect will be a filthy weekend. His fingers find the edges of the toy through your panties, fiddling with it and causing you to squirm feebly in place, never letting his cock slip from your lips.

"I know," Joel sighs, a smirk in his voice. "Bein' so good. Holdin' all that cum in that sweet little ass. Where should I fill you up next?"

Everywhere. Anywhere. You don't know anymore. You can only focus on his cock filling your mouth and throat, on the task of holding it there, forever maybe, even when it starts to feel impossible. Only–

"Hm?" Joel pries and then his hand is back in your hair, abruptly tugging you off his length. He peeks down at you as you haul in a mouthful of oxygen, cupping a hand under your chin to wipe at the wet corners of your lips.

"Focus, babygirl," he instructs you, gently guiding you back towards his cock. You lay wet kisses on his tip, along his veined underside, his heavy balls. You already miss the feeling of him in your mouth.

"Come down my throat," you beseech him, voice hoarse and small. You glance up at him to catch the moment his eyes look away from the road to shoot you an expectant stare.

"Please," you add. Joel smiles.

"Since you asked so nice," he says. "Go on."

You smile too, eagerly wrapping your lips around him and swallowing him back down. His hand is quick to cover the back of your head again, easing you lower and lower until you've taken him as deep as you can and his tip is prodding at the back of your throat.

"There you go, just stay right there."

You don't dare move a muscle, opening your throat and widening your jaw, planting your hands on his thigh to hold yourself in place as he takes the wheel in both hands. You're vaguely conscious of him pulling off the road, the low rumble of his truck grinding to a halt as he parks along the shoulder.

Two strong hands grip your skull, pushing you down that much further, giving you nowhere to go. You'll squeeze his thigh three times if you want out, but that's the last thing on your mind right now.

"Gonna fuck your throat, okay?" he grunts. "Can you take it?"

To the best of your ability, you nod.

"Fuck," Joel groans, quickly getting to work with shallow little thrusts into your open, waiting throat. Tears begin to prick at your eyes and it's all you can do just to remain still, to keep breathing through your nose and let him take what he needs. "Oh, shit, that's right, sweetheart. That's my girl. Such a good little mouth. All mine to fuck how I want, huh?"

You can't respond. If you respond you'll splutter and if you splutter, he'll stop. And you do not want him to stop.

"Eyes up here, baby, right here," he orders you, desperation coating his words. The angle is funny, but you do as he asks, peering up at him glassy-eyed while he fucks your mouth that much faster. "There you go, there you go. Fuck…you want it?"

The sound you make comes out high-pitched and muffled, but Joel knows what it means: Please.

His breaths come fast as he holds your head in place, thrusting harder up into your willing throat, less careful now as he nears his edge. You don't mind; you let him bruise your esophagus as he takes and takes and then finally spills. A long, grunted groan pours from him as hot cum coats your throat and tongue, Joel's hands pressing your face firmly into his lower belly until his muscles slacken and the back of his head hits the seat behind him.

Gravity is not on your side. You feel a mixture of drool and cum leaking from between your lips and, lost in his post-orgasm haze, Joel doesn't stop you as you slide your lips up his length, taking your time to lick up as much of his escaping spend as you can. Even as his cock begins to soften, you can't seem to stop tonguing at his shaft, locked in some cock-hungry trance you're not even sure you understand.

"Alright, okay, c'mere," Joel murmurs at last, prying you away from his crotch and encouraging you to sit upright beside him. He takes your face in his hands and you smile at him dreamily.

"Jesus," he sighs as you lick your wet lips clean. "Oh, honey, look at you."

Genuine concern seems to crease between his brows as his thumbs swipe away the tears from your cheeks.

"You okay?" he asks softly. You nod. "You liked that, huh?"

So fucking much. But you can't find the words, so instead you just nod again.

"Thought you were just gonna keep it warm but…"

Joel's lips twitch and you giggle. You were never going to just keep it warm.

"Hey," Joel says, firmer as he clutches the sides of your face, eyes worriedly searching yours for…something. Signs of life, maybe. "You alright?"

You work to focus, blinking your way back to reality, fighting with the unresolved ache between your thighs and the floating sensation that comes from being used so thoroughly by another person.

"Good," you assure him, though the dry rasp in your voice says otherwise. "Just… kinda spacey. That was really hot."

That's an understatement. Joel breathes a little sigh of relief, leaning forward to kiss you tenderly.

"Yeah, it was," he hums, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones. "You did good, baby. You want me to…?"

His hand finds your upper thigh, inching towards your throbbing core, but you catch his wrist before he can touch you.

"No," you insist. "I–I want you to make me wait."

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead and something devilish passes over his features.

"Yeah?" he smirks.

You bite your lip, nodding even as the ache consumes you and the power visibly consumes Joel.

"If that's what you want," he shrugs, pulling you in for one more kiss with a hand below your chin, finally letting you go to turn his key in the ignition and head back out on the road.

By the time hour four rolls around, your skin is tingling with need and, as Joel teases his fingers around your upper thigh, never quite touching where you want him most, you get the distinct feeling you've made the stupidest request of your life.

It's late afternoon by the time you arrive on the island. The condo you've rented out for the weekend had looked perfect in pictures, but it's nothing compared to the real thing. It's not fancy or anything, fairly homey all things considered, just a one-bedroom unit complete with a kitchenette, living room and a renovated bathroom. It feels lived-in despite the fact you're pretty sure the owners only keep it as an income property. It’s the view that sells it really, the living space giving way to a wide, furnished balcony overlooking the expansive beach below.

That's the first place you go after dropping your bags in the bedroom, throwing open the sliding glass doors to lean against the railing and breathe in a lungful of warm, salty air.

"This is so nice," you call over your shoulder. But Joel is already there behind you, bracing both his arms against the railing on either side of your body.

"Yeah, real nice," he agrees. "No cat hair."

You let that one slide.

"I love this," you smile, leaning your head back into his chest. "Imagine we had our own little place like this."

You peek up to find Joel frowning down at you.

"We got a house."

"Oh–well, I mean…that's your house."

Joel's frown only deepens. Shit. The words suddenly feel stupid now that you say them out loud.

"You still think that?” he asks.

"I–"

Joel tilts your face up to meet his eyes with a thumb beneath your chin.

"You're not movin' out or nothin', are you?"

You swallow tightly. Yeah, right. That ship had sailed long ago.

"No, of course not."

"Good, 'cause I don't want you goin' anywhere."

That earns him a smile, one which he returns in kind.

"Okay."

You turn to face him properly, melting into a simple embrace, your arms wrapped around his neck, his around your middle. You bury your face in his shoulder and breathe in the scent of him here, his familiar musk twinged with sea salt already–not unlike how he'd smelled every day in Costa Rica.

"That's our home, got it?" he murmurs, laying a kiss against the side of your head.

"Got it."

You stay like that for a moment, gently swaying under the orange sky to the tune of crashing waves. It feels like coming home.

Softness fades into something else, though, when Joel squeezes you in a little tighter, moving one hand to cup your ass beneath your skirt.

"Get on the bed," he whispers, his voice a low rasp. It sends a shiver down your spine, makes you suddenly hyper-aware of your body and just how good it feels pressed up against his. "All fours."

He lets you go and you hurry back inside towards the bedroom. You don’t need to look behind you to know he's following. As soon as you're situated on your hands and knees on the king-sized mattress, Joel is already hovering over you. You wait as patiently as you can as he draws a slow line up your spine with his palm until he reaches the back of your neck, pressing your chest down into the sheets. You willingly let him handle you, eager at the thought of finally maybe getting some relief.

"Goddamn," he hums, almost to himself.

Your skirt pools over your hips as Joel slides your underwear down your thighs. He whistles lowly under his breath, and you peek behind you to watch him taking you in. You wonder if it'll ever not make your skin burn, that hungry way he looks at you. Right now, his gaze is fixed on your ass, assessing the glass plug there, while his fingers scrape curiously over the wet mess of your cunt.

"You're so wet, baby."

You’re ready to snidely remind that's his fucking fault, but the words die on your tongue the moment he hinges at the waist to press his lips to your folds. You gasp, squirming back into the inviting warmth of his mouth as you clench around the plug in your ass. Joel chuckles, lips smacking against you before he's pulling away all too soon.

"Relax for me, alright?" he tells you.

You try. You've had more than enough practice by now anyway, melted to the tune of Joel's gentle praises whispered in your ear while he's worked open the tight fist of your asshole.

And Joel never rushes. Joel sits beside you on the bed and strokes soothing, gentle patterns over the globes of your ass and the slope of your spine, calls you his good girl when his fingers begin to play around the edges of the toy and you sink a little deeper into his side. You try to ignore the tense waves of anticipation that spread to your nerves, focusing only on the feeling of his hands and the low hum of his voice. You inhale when his fingers curl around the glass and he whispers a, ready?, then exhale through your nose when he carefully pulls it free.

"Oh, fuck, there you go," Joel sighs. A breathy moan escapes you at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you, trickling slowly from your opening and down your inner thighs.

"Shit, that's pretty," Joel marvels.

"Take a picture," you boldly suggest.

Joel growls, moving with impressive speed to find his phone.

"Wait, put your–"

Standing over you, he grabs at your wrists, positioning you so your hands are resting on each of your ass cheeks. You quickly figure out what he's after.

"Yeah," he hums appreciatively as you spread yourself open for him, his eagerness all the reassurance you need to not feel completely ridiculous at the obscenity of it all.

You hear the click of his camera go off a few times and then his mouth on you again, his tongue dragging upwards through your pussy before circling the ring of your ass. You whine, reaching wildly for his curls to hold him where you need him but Joel is pulling away before you can.

No.

He plants an affectionate smack against your ass before kissing the same spot. You glance back at him indignantly but he's already stepped away, rummaging through his luggage like he hadn't just been eating his own cum out of your ass.

"C'mon," he winks. "Let's get you cleaned up a bit. Go grab some food, yeah?"

You sigh, rolling over to sit up and pout dramatically at him as he changes into a beige linen shirt.

"Tease," you mutter bitterly.

"Careful what you wish for, sweetheart."

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The unresolved tension in your body becomes easier to ignore after a nice dinner and a drink. Joel looks delicious, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his cheeks and chest in the evening heat, tanned skin glowing under the warm lights lining the patio. The beach is visible from here, the Gulf of Mexico nothing but a black abyss, stretching out for miles, as night settles in. The water calls to you as you settle up your meal, and it's not even really a conscious decision that you find yourselves walking along the sand after that, hand in hand on a stroll to nowhere in particular.

"Remember when we fell asleep on the beach in Costa Rica?" you muse.

"My back won't let me forget."

You giggle, remembering. You lead him to the edge of the sea, kicking off your shoes to dip your toes in the water. It's not cold, so you inch a little deeper, until the waves lick softly at your ankles. Joel must follow suit, because then his arms are winding around your shoulders and he's pulling you back into his chest.

"Wanna see somethin'?" he asks.

"Sure."

You tilt your head back to find Joel reaching back into one of his pockets.

"Got a message from Tess," he mutters as he fishes out his phone, one arm still looped around your front.

That's…not what you'd expected.

"What? Your ex?"

"Nothin' bad," he shakes his head, focused on unlocking his phone. "I mean we always…we were friends more'n anything, you know?"

"Hm," you nod.

You watch him as he opens Facebook (of course Joel still uses Facebook), rambling away while he searches for whatever it is he's looking for.

"Anyway, it was kinda funny. I changed my, uh–what's it called? The picture?"

"Your profile picture?" you grin.

"Yeah," he says, pulling it up. "To this. Me and you."

"Aw, wait, that's so cute." You snatch the phone out of his hand for a better look, cheeks warming at the image he's chosen. It's you and him, alright, looking sickeningly adorable with Joel's lips all smushed up against your cheek, a selfie you think you'd taken at a concert earlier this summer. It shouldn't make you so emotional, but it does. You can't remember any boyfriend you've ever had showing you off like that.

"I didn't know you did that," you say tightly, using two fingers to zoom in on the beatific smile you're sporting in the picture. You swallow back the lump in your throat and hand Joel back his phone.

"You don't mind, do you?" Joel asks.

"Not at all." You crane your neck to kiss his cheek and Joel chuckles.

"Good." He gets to work again, this time pulling up his messages. "Well, I guess I still had Tess on there and after I did that she–well, there, you look."

You frown as Joel hands the phone back to you, open on the message thread between him and Tess. Joel makes himself comfortable against your back again, peering over your shoulder as you tentatively begin to read.

Tess Servopoulos: Well shit guess all you needed was a pretty young thing to get you to finally settle down ;)

Tess Servopoulos: I'm just fucking with you. She's gorgeous. You look happy.

Joel Miller: lol

Joel Miller: Thanks, Tess. I am happy. Hope yr good too

Tess Servopoulos: All good. Ben is engaged!!

Joel Miller: Congrats, that's great

Tess Servopoulos: You next?

Joel Miller: lol. We'll see

Tess Servopoulos: Take care of yourself, Texas x

Joel Miller: You too.

You read it all the way through once, then again, and then a third time. And you wish you could focus on literally anything else, but every time you read it, you just keep fixating on two little words: We'll see.

What does that mean?

"Wow, that's…" You clear your throat, trying to think of something–anything–to say. "Who's Ben?"

Joel smiles fondly as he takes his phone out of your hand, locking it before pocketing it once more.

We'll see. We'll see. We'll see.

"Her son."

"That's really sweet," you say. And it's true, you think. It is sweet. Unlike you and Chris, Joel and Tess' breakup had been amicable, even if it had ended due to Joel's unwillingness to commit to marriage. He still deserves closure, and he seems lighter for it.

Marriage. We'll see.

"How do you feel about it?" you ask in a rush, before your thoughts can spiral out of control. "Her reaching out?"

Joel shrugs, his body weight heavy where it rests on your shoulders.

"Feel…relieved, I guess. I never wanted to hurt her."

You soften at that, grounded by his earnesty. Joel sighs as you bring one of his hands to your mouth to kiss his warm, calloused palm.

"I know you didn't."

"The way everything turned out...I wouldn't change a thing, you know?" he whispers, his lips right at your ear. "Not a damn thing."

"Me neither."

This might be the worst performance of the Cranberries' "Zombie" Joel's ever heard in his life.

When you'd wandered into this unassuming bar from your walk on the beach, Joel had conveniently missed the sign on the way in letting you know tonight was karaoke night. It had been relatively quiet here until about 10 p.m., when a man's voice had announced through a microphone that the "fun was just getting started." Joel begs to differ.

On the bright side, you've tucked yourself in beside him in a booth, if only because he needs you that close just to be able to hear you over the off-key shouting his ears are currently being assaulted with. It's not so bad. You look gorgeous, cheeks glowing with the alcohol in your system, all pretty and done-up in your little sundress. You're nodding your head along with the beat, making a show of getting into it, and Joel would be lying if he said he didn't find that absolutely endearing as fuck.

The singer–if you could call him that–slurs his way through the noisy outro and you erupt into some comically over-enthusiastic applause. Joel shakes his head.

"What?" you round on him, grinning from ear to ear. "You gotta at least give him an A for effort."

Joel does not. Instead, he snickers and squeezes your side. You squirm a little at his touch, your smirk faltering for a brief second, and it reminds how keyed up he'd left you before dinner, hours ago now. He has every intention of finishing what he'd started, especially curious about how far you'll let him go with this whole "making you wait for it" game.

Considering the way you practically jolt out of your seat every time he so much as lays a finger on you, he's fairly sure you won't last long once he gets you back to the condo. Which suits him just fine, really. There's not much he loves more than making you come. He'd do it right now if he could.

"How's your drink?" he asks in the brief moment of quiet while the next volunteer takes the stage.

You rattle around the few ice cubes remaining in your glass and down what's left of it. "Good. This is my last one, I think."

"Yeah?" Joel grins, ducking to kiss the shell of your ear. "You wanna get outta here?"

Your breath hitches and you stiffen as he lays a hand on your thigh. He slowly draws his fingers upwards, just breaching the hem of your dress when suddenly a familiar instrumental begins to ring out through the bar's sound system and your attention is quickly stolen away.

"Joel!" you gasp excitedly, jumping out of his hold to bop along in your seat to the tune of fucking…"Margaritaville."

Joel groans.

"You hate this song," he reminds you.

"Yeah, but this is like, our song," you contend.

"Like hell it is," he scoffs. You frown.

" But remember though? At the bar in Costa Rica?"

"'Course I remember. This still ain't our song."

"Salt, salt, salt!" you suddenly chant in time with the song, ignoring him and pumping your fist towards the stage. The singer beams and points gleefully in your direction. Joel buries his face in his hand.

You turn back to him with this huge, stupid smile and tug on his arm till he meets your eyes.

"Alright, sorry, I'm kidding. What is our song?"

Joel pulls at his whiskey, considering it. He doesn't have to think about it for long.

"Gotta be Fleetwood Mac, right?" he shrugs.

Your eyes widen at that, your chest deflating as you exhale a long breath. "Oh…yeah."

He's not sure what to make of that reaction, so Joel tries to play it cool, to not let on that he's thought about this countless times already.

"Probably 'Songbird,'" he says as casually as he can, taking another sip of his drink.

It's the one that makes him think of you the most. Reminds him of that night spent eating burgers in bed and how he's felt about you every night since. He chances a glance at your face and can practically see the way you're combing through the lyrics in your head right now, just like he is.

To you, I'll give the world

To you, I'll never be cold

Because I feel that when I'm with you

It's alright, I know it's right

And the songbirds are singing

Like they know the score

And I love you, I love you, I love you

Like never before

"Yeah," you finally nod. Your eyes are swimming with something he can't quite place. "Yeah, that's a good one."

Joel pulls you back under his arm, planting a quick kiss to the top of your head.

"Better'n this, anyway," he smirks, nodding his head towards the stage. The guy's now on his third refrain of that annoyingly catchy chorus. You laugh, and the weighty moment fades away as quickly as it had come.

"It's a close second," you concede. Joel doesn't miss the way you hastily swipe at your under eyes before settling into his side.

At some point while he's working on polishing off his whiskey, you sneak off to the bathroom, shooting him this scandalized little stare when he slaps your ass as you go. You return after being gone just a bit too long with a poorly-concealed devious glint in your eye and Joel's already fairly sure he knows what you've done. He keeps his assumptions to himself, letting you have your fun until his suspicions are confirmed when the man on the mic calls out your name and Joel's barely ten minutes later.

You squeeze his arm and bite back a toothy smile. Joel shakes his head.

"Nice," he remarks sardonically.

"Sorry," you giggle.

He's not so sure you are.

"Come on, big guy," you insist, slapping his shoulder and hopping out of the booth. You raise your eyebrows expectantly when he doesn't move an inch.

"Please don't make me do it alone," you add, jutting your bottom lip out in a way he wishes he didn't find so goddamn irresistible.

He sighs and reluctantly takes your hand, letting you lead him to the little stage where two microphones and a TV screen await the two of you. From here, at least, he can see the bar isn't too full, only a handful of patrons hanging around, most of them around his age and barely paying attention anyway. He's still nervous under the lights; there's a reason he doesn't sing in front of crowds anymore. Plus he doesn't even know what song–

The opening chords of "Don't Stop" are quick to ease at least some of his impending panic. He gives you a look and you give him one right back, then you start to sing and who the hell is he to not help you out?

He keeps his eyes on you the whole time, and it grounds him, even when he registers the attention you're drawing from the crowd in his periphery. And while he sings, his mind wanders.

He thinks about the girl he'd met a year ago, so shy and reserved–would you have done something like this then? Would he?

Maybe if I'd'a been braver, he'd told you when you'd said he could have been a singer. There were other reasons, of course, but a lack of courage had certainly played a part in the way he'd held himself back from things in life. He feels brave with you, though. He feels brave right now, testing out a harmony just like you used to practice and relishing the cheers it draws from your little audience. And you're neither shy nor reserved as you belt into your microphone and sway in place to a song that he thinks will forever be entwined with your histories. He's always known this part of you, all this radiant joy lurking just below the surface; he'd always known it was there. That girl he'd met a year ago is still right here, freer now and more radiant than ever.

Yesterday's gone, you sing in boisterous unison, and Joel knows it's true. Yesterday's gone.

Joel's not exactly in the habit of not making you come.

He remembers that first morning in Costa Rica, all your insecurity and your insistence that it just wasn't going to happen. His goal then has been the same as his goal ever since–to offer you as much pleasure as he thinks you deserve, every chance he gets.

Denying you that right feels almost sinful, a crime he's sure he'll pay for in another life, and yet–

He thinks he might be drunk on this power.

You'd made your way back to the condo over a half hour ago now, and he's been patiently toying with you ever since.

"Joel," you whine beneath him as he strokes his thumb along the seam of your cunt over your underwear. You've soaked through the fabric, tacky wetness clinging to his skin. You're otherwise bare, sprawled out on the mattress while Joel towers over you, drinking you in like this, all squirmy and desperate. It's intoxicating.

"What?" he whispers. He cocks his head to the side as if he really doesn't know, palming idly at the bulge in his shorts with his free hand.

"Touch me for real."

"No," he says simply.

You groan and wiggle your hips up into his thumb, and Joel just laughs.

"You said to make you wait," he says, tracing a hand up your navel to cup your breast and lightly tweak a nipple between his fingers. Your entire body shivers. Christ, you're a sight.

You exhale an exasperated puff of air, pouting up at him.

"I didn't say torture me," you argue.

Joel raises his eyebrows.

"You tappin' out already?"

Your petulant pout grows more pronounced as you mull it over and Joel seizes the opportunity to hinge forward and wrap his lips around your nipple, smirking when it elicits a needy little moan from you.

"No," you concede.

"That's right," Joel hums, kissing his way over your sternum and up your neck, landing at the shell of your ear. His hands get to work freeing his cock and he feels you begin to quiver at the sound of his zipper coming undone. "That's my good girl. You can wait. You know why?"

You shake your head from side to side. "Mm-mm."

Joel chuckles as he kicks his shorts and boxers aside. He's already achingly hard from teasing you this long, but he strokes himself a few times anyway, if only to catch the moment your eyes flit downwards to watch.

"'Cause it's gonna feel so fuckin' good when I finally let you have it. Right?"

All that gets him in response is a whimper.

"Right," he answers for you, with a final nip at your earlobe.

He pulls back then, tugging you by the ankles to the edge of the bed so your legs dangle off the mattress. You gasp at the sight of him naked above you, hungry eyes tracing over his body in a way that makes his ego bloom. That seed of power roots itself in his chest, and he starts to wonder just how shattered he could make you, how long he could actually last, holding you like this, right on the edge of release.

"So pretty like this, baby." He lets himself marvel for just a moment, cradling the side of your face in his palm and laughing in wonder when you suck his thumb between your lips.

"Oh, good girl," he sighs, pressing the pad of his thumb into your tongue at the same time he pushes his hips forward, guiding the tip of his cock to the drenched gusset of your panties.

You immediately arch at the contact, moaning out a stream of high-pitched sounds as he begins to drag the head of his cock up and down, featherlight and slow over your clothed folds.

"You like that?" he breathes.

You nod vigorously, canting your hips upwards in search of more. He can't have that. He quickly retracts his thumb from your mouth and takes a small step back, grinning at the whiny sound of protest you make.

"Come back," you plead.

"Hold still," he retorts firmly.

Your head falls back behind you with a groan, and, clenching your fists at your sides, you take a long, deep breath.

"Okay," you say. "It just felt really good."

"I know, baby." His hand finds your face again, stroking patterns over your cheekbones with his knuckles. Your eyelids flutter and you lean into his touch, and Joel feels the facade drop for just a second, something warm and soft glowing in his ribcage.

"I'm gonna do it again, alright?" he whispers.

You nod. "Okay."

"But you gotta hold still or I'm gonna stop. Can you do that for me?"

"Okay," you repeat, the sound almost a sob.

Joel tsks sympathetically, unable to stop himself from pressing his lips to yours. You pour your tongue into his mouth, kissing him deeper until he pulls away again. Your lips chase after him, eyes wide and wet like you already miss him.

"Jesus," he shakes his head down at you in wonder. You really are too fucking pretty like this. It gives him an idea. "Shit, baby, can I–?"

His gaze flashes to the nightstand where his phone is currently resting.

"What?" you frown, attempting and failing to follow his eyeline.

"Can I record you like this?" he asks in a rush, before he can think any better of it.

Blood floods his cheeks the minute he says it, suddenly giddy at the thought of immortalizing you this way forever.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, your lips spreading into a smile as you nod. "Yeah–yes. Fuck."

A primal sound rips from his chest as he reaches over you to grab his phone off the nightstand. There's a palpable charge between you that makes his hands shake, makes him all clumsy as he pulls up his camera and angles the lens down at you. Keeping only your bottom half in frame, his cock is just visible beneath the curve of his belly, and Joel takes a quick picture, just because he can.

"Don't move," he tells you.

"Okay," you whisper.

You moan in unison at the tiny sound his phone makes when he finally hits record.

Joel is focused then. Watching himself on the little screen, he repeats exactly what he'd done before, touching the leaking head of his cock to your covered slit, smearing his precum with the webs of slick that coat your underwear. It's fucking mesmerizing, the camera perfectly capturing the way your muscles tense as you attempt to stay still, your tummy rising and falling in these shallow, panted breaths.

He glides his cock through the juicy mess of fabric in slow, measured movements, so intent on what he's doing, it takes him much too long to notice you're being far too fucking quiet.

Tearing his eyes from the phone, he glances up at your face to find it's all screwed up in concentration, eyelids squeezed shut, teeth biting down on your lower lip. Your eyes quickly snap open when he slaps his length against your cunt, the sudden contact finally drawing a wanton sound from you.

"There she is," Joel smirks, then he does it again. "Lemme hear you, sweetheart, don't get shy on me."

He can't stop the sounds that spill from you then, not that he'd ever want to. He takes his time, resting the weight of his cock against your mound and thrusting shallowly, gauging each shivering response your body offers him when he pulls away or changes pace, not bothering to stop you now when you unconsciously begin to writhe under him. He finds it's easier to keep himself from exploding when he's holding the camera, too absorbed in his work.

"How you doin', baby?" he asks gruffly after several long moments. He steps back an inch, leaving you untouched once again. You whimper.

"Oh, poor thing," Joel tuts. He readjusts the camera angle then, dragging it up to capture your wrecked, wide-eyed expression.

"Look right here, sweetheart," he instructs you and then he just about loses it as you make direct eye contact with the camera, your brows all smushed together in pleasure.

"Fuck me," he groans lowly.

You make some weak little noise in the back of your throat, and Joel watches his hand on the screen as it moves into frame and cups your cheek.

"Should we take these panties off, babygirl? See how messy this little pussy is for me?"

You keep your eyes fixed on the camera as you eagerly nod your head.

"Can you ask nice for it?" he dares you.

"Please," you beg without hesitation, burning a hole straight through his phone with all the desperation in your gaze and voice, and Joel's already dreaming about jerking off to this about a million fucking times. "Please, Joel, please let me feel your cock. I can't-I can't wait anymore–"

"Shh, hey, you're okay," he soothes. You're getting worked up, actual tears sprouting in the corners of your eyes. It takes all his restraint not to just let you come right then and there. "Gonna take care of you, alright? Just a little longer, baby. Just a little longer and then you can come, okay? You can do it."

You nod resolutely and Joel smiles.

"Good girl."

He stops recording then, ducking down to kiss you quickly. Then he murmurs a stay right there–as if you're going to go anywhere–padding over to rest his phone against the windowsill and hit record again, the new angle capturing the full length of your body. He retakes his place at the foot of the bed, and puts the camera out of his head. His only priority now is you.

Dropping to his knees, he hooks his fingers beneath the hem of your underwear, tugging them down your thighs and tossing them aside. Your pussy glistens before him, puffy and wet and needy. He spreads your lips apart with his thumbs, sighing at the way your hole flutters for him. Jesus, you must feel so fucking empty.

So he helps.

His hands on the backs of your thighs, he folds your knees up your chest, opening you up completely before he leans in to drive his tongue directly into your cunt. You cry out at the intrusion and knot your fingers into his hair and Joel just presses his tongue deeper, nosing at your clit and feeling you clench around him in response.

He fucks you like that, spearing his tongue in and out of you until he feels your fingers tighten in his curls, pools of slick dribbling out of you and down his chin and he knows–

"Joel, Joel, Joel–fuck, Joel–please, I'm gonna come–"

He puckers his lips over your folds and sucks, feverishly swallowing down the taste of you and then–he stops.

You noticeably deflate, your cry of protest so loud it's almost a scream.

"Joel, no, please," you sob, sitting up onto your elbows and peering down at him with betrayal in your eyes.

Joel just shakes his head. "Not yet."

He softly kisses your inner thigh and waits for your breathing to settle. He needs a minute, too, if he's honest.

"That was mean," you say once you've calmed down.

"I know," he whispers, dragging his lips towards the crease of your thigh, feeling you shudder when he brushes them over your cunt.

"Do it again."

His eyes flash up to your face, your expression all tear-streaked and faraway–but otherwise deadly serious.

"You sure?" he asks, licking a soft circle around your clit, still watching you.

"Fuck–yes," you moan, but your voice shakes with all the effort it's taking to keep it together and something about knowing that makes Joel's insides burn. You and he both know he could make you come but you hand over the power to him to choose when, give him free rein to toy with your pleasure like it's some kind of game, even if it feels like torture. It's probably not the right time to think it, but he really is so fucking in love with you.

"My good girl," he hums, gliding the tip of his tongue featherlight through the seam of your cunt before gently pressing his lips to your twitching clit. "Perfect fuckin' thing. Huh? Who decides when you get to come?"

"You do."

"Yeah, that's right," he says, fanning your lips apart with his fingers in a V-shape, giving him better access to flick his tongue over your weeping little hole. "You gonna be good and take what I give you?"

You nod and nod and nod, rut into his mouth and mewl out some babbling refrain of yesyesyes. Joel's seen you a lot of ways, but he's not sure he's ever seen you this desperate. It's just as well anyway; he's not sure how much longer he can go without fucking you.

So he straightens out with one final kiss to your clit, moving hastily to prop your hips up with a pillow at your lower back. Your fingers claw at the sheets beside you as he lines himself up with your entrance, experimentally drawing a line through your bare pussy with the tip of his cock. You throw your head back and groan when he taps his length against your clit, and Joel has to bite back the urge to do the same. He's starting to feel a bit deranged with how badly he just wants to fuck you.

Then you meekly whimper please and his control finally falters.

He presses inside you with a ragged sigh, too impatient to be slow with it. He buries himself in the warm wet of you in one fluid motion, pausing only when he's sheathed himself entirely and his balls are pressed against your ass. He grits his teeth and forces his hips to still, allowing your body to make space for him, just like it always does. You've always taken him so well, but Joel swears it just gets better every time.

You, meanwhile, are rambling away beneath him, already pleading with him for more, and Joel is more than willing to oblige. He folds himself over your squirming form, gathering your wrists in his hands and collecting them above your head as he slowly begins to drag his length through the tight clutch of your cunt.

"Oh, god," you whine, "Joel, harder–please–"

Joel chuckles, right at your ear, and does just as you ask.

His body still pressed against yours, he thrusts into you with more deliberate force, letting his lips wander along your neck and chest. You cry out with each rock of his hips against yours, everything about the position he has you in stifling. It's all laboured breaths and sticky wetness, sweat clinging to every inch of you, his lips fused to whatever bit of skin he can reach.

It's only when he feels your walls clench around him that he pulls back far enough to see your face. Your lips are parted, eyes wide in warning and Joel just shakes his head.

"Joel, please–please–I'm so close," you beg.

"Not yet, baby," he tells you, though he doesn't slow the motions of his hips. "Hold on a little longer for me. Don't you come till I say.”

Fresh tears pool in your eyes, spilling over your cheeks when you squeeze your lids closed in concentration. Normally Joel would chide you for that, but just this once, he decides to let it go.

"Attagirl–that's right–you just hold on–so fuckin' patient, fuck–"

Jesus. He's gonna come if he keeps this up. His own grunted ramblings are cut short as he harnesses every ounce of control in his body and hurriedly pulls out of you all too soon. Your eyes fly apart and you whine in anguished protest, but Joel's already stepped clear away from you, gripping the base of his cock and running a hand through his curls with his free hand.

"Christ," he mutters under his breath, trying and failing to pull himself together.

You're about to say something, but Joel doesn't let you, effectively silencing you when he flips you on to your tummy and tugs your hips back so your ass is in the air for him. If he fucks you, he'll be finished in seconds, but he can still bring you to the edge again, just one more time.

He hinges with his hands firmly gripping your waist and connects his lips with your cunt without any preamble. You yelp in surprise at the insistent ministrations of his tongue, quickly realizing Joel's no longer interested in taking his time. He laps at you hungrily, using his thumbs to spread you apart and make out with your pussy. He works with intention, familiar enough with your body now to know exactly what to do to make you come–fully aware he's not going to let you.

Your cries rise in pitch and he knows he's almost there. He concentrates the flicks of his tongue to your needy, pulsing clit, his nose pressing into your core and, just because he knows it will make you that much crazier, he touches one thumb to the rim of your other hole, circling it with just a whisper of pressure and–

"Yes!" you cry, arching back into his face. Joel smirks as slick pools at your centre and you begin to twitch under his tongue, that same chanted whine of pleasepleaseplease spilling from your throat and for what he very much intends to be the last time–Joel pulls away before just you reach your peak.

You crash forward into the sheets with a frustrated groan, sounding so tortured now he really is starting to feel guilty. Then he sees that your body is racking with sobs, face buried in your hands and something more akin to worry sets in.

"Hey, hey, hey," he whispers, climbing into bed with you and maneuvering you carefully into his lap so your back is sewn to his chest. "I got you, I'm sorry, shh."

He feels your head shake against his shoulder as you sniffle out a little laugh. "No…it's good, I'm okay, I'm just–"

You exhale a shuddering breath, and Joel softly kisses a spot behind your ear. "Tappin' out?" he supplies.

"Yes," you breathe. "Please."

"That's okay," he soothes, unconsciously grinding the hard length of his cock up against your ass. "Y'did so good, sweetheart. You wanna come? You wanna come on my cock?"

"Please, Joel, please."

He's always loved hearing you say that word. Right now, it seems like you've forgotten any other ones.

"My sweet, polite girl," Joel praises you quietly as he lifts you in his lap and guides his cock to your waiting hole. "You're so patient, so good for me. Not gonna make you wait anymore, okay?"

You make these quiet little sounds as he babbles away, then he's pulling you down onto his length and your voice is choking off into a strangled moan.

"Yeah, there you go, baby, don't fight it now. Just let go for me, I got you…"

He sets a steady pace, thrusting up into your dripping heat, winding an arm around your middle to circle your clit. He knows it won't take long like this–for you or for him.

"Come with me," he instructs you as your body begins to quiver in his grasp. "Fuck–come on, baby, let me feel it, fuckin' squeeze me just like that–"

And with a noisy, uninhibited scream, you do, your perfect little pussy clenching down around him with dizzying force as you come undone at last. He's felt you come so many times, but never like this. It builds in waves, pulsing through you and crashing crashing crashing, again and again, like it may never end. He fucks you through what he imagines is your peak, until he spills inside you with a laboured grunt and it's like it hits you again, another wave crashing into you before the last one's even passed. You're still coming even when he's emptied himself completely, and he fights back the overstimulation just to stay buried inside you until your muscles finally loosen and you're falling back into his chest like a ragdoll.

He's whispering a string of praises in your ear as he pulls you down into the sheets with him, rolling you carefully in his grasp to face him. He holds you till your body stops twitching, and only then does he rise to retrieve his phone and stop the recording, discarding it on the nightstand before ducking out of the room to find a towel. By the time he returns to the cozy little bedroom, wet cloth in hand, you're fast asleep on top of the covers. You don't even stir as he gently cleans you up, nor when he settles into bed beside you and takes you carefully in his arms.

"M'gonna keep you right here, babygirl," he whispers, pulling you in tighter. "Right here with me."

Always, always, always.

Joel Miller is certain of very little.

He'd learned long ago to stop expecting things in life, to only worry about the things he can control and do his best to adapt to the things he can't. He's not always been graceful about it, least of all in his younger years, but he likes to think he knows a thing or two about rolling with the punches. There are no sure things in this world, and what's here today might be as good as gone tomorrow.

He'd always lived that way. And then…you came into his life.

You'd always been there, technically–his buddy's daughter, always hovering in his periphery. Then all at once, you'd come into focus, obstructing everything else, and now he can't look away. He never wants to.

Joel Miller is certain of very little, but he's certain about you.

He's pondered it before, more interested in introspection as he gets older, less afraid of the inside of his own mind than he used to be:

Why you? he'll think, late at night after you've fallen asleep or right at dawn, when he drives to work alone. Why now?

He ponders it now as he watches your chest rise and fall in your sleep, your skin glowing in the early morning sunlight streaming through the windows of a condo that isn't yours.

Why her? Why now?

He thinks…maybe he's been floundering a bit. Maybe always has been, but especially since Sarah left. Joel's no good with idle hands, far too aware of how quickly he goes stir-crazy without something to do. Purposeless, he stagnates. He'd stagnated before you.

Then there you were. A little broken, a little scared. Someone who needed someone. And by some twist of fate, Joel was there too. Begging, whether you'd known it or not, to be needed by someone.

Wrong place, right time.

A year later, and he's still begging.

Need me. Need me. Never stop needing me.

But you don't, not really. Joel thinks you'd be just fine without him, if he's honest. You handle your shit. You forgive. You fix what's broken and confront your fears.

And yet…you're still here. Still living in his home, still telling him you love him. So he lets himself believe that maybe you do need him, maybe you couldn't have blossomed into this woman without him. Maybe, somehow, he'd helped.

Maybe he wants to keep helping you, forever.

There is a ring he keeps in the top drawer of his nightstand back home, an heirloom from his mother, untouched since Sarah's mom had left it discarded on the kitchen table before leaving them forever. He hasn't thought about it in years. But he thinks a lot about it a lot when he looks at you.

You haven't talked about marriage yet. Not like that anyway. He thinks about what you'd said in Costa Rica, though, the day you'd rode jet skis and sat on the sand, pouring your hearts out to each other for the very first time.

"But you don't want that? Marriage, I mean?"

"Sure, I do," you'd shrugged. "In my own time."

"You deserve it," he'd said, and he still means it. "T-to go at your own pace, I mean. And to be married, I guess, f'that's what you want."

You'd wanted it then, in theory. Do you want it now? With him?

You stir awake before he can stew on that for too long.

"Hi," you sigh gravelly, fanning yourself across his chest.

"Hey, baby." He smiles as he envelops you in his arms, buries his nose in your hair and inhales. The scent of sex clings to you, mingled with the unfamiliar smell of the sheets that don't belong to you. "How'd you sleep?"

"Mmm, good." You nuzzle a little closer, hook a leg over his middle and sigh. He doesn't think you're fully awake yet. "You knocked me right out."

Joel chuckles. "Y'took it like a champ, though. Did you like it?"

You laugh, propping your chin up onto your hands. Your hair's all mussed up, eyes a little hooded still.

"It was fun, but…you owe me like, a million orgasms today."

Joel grins, his cock already twitching to life at the thought.

"That seems fair."

He wants you just like this always, sleepy and soft, giggling with your face buried in his chest. If you were his wife, he'd make sure you were always this sated, always this safe.

"We made a movie," you laugh. Your forehead is still pressed into his skin–hiding, like you're embarrassed about it.

Joel laughs too, scraping a palm over his face, a little incredulous himself as he remembers. "We did."

Your laughter fades into silence and then,

"Can we watch it?"

You gaze up at him expectantly and Joel nods without hesitation, without thinking about how weird it's going to be to see himself on camera like that. All he can think about is you, how fucking sexy and desperate you'd been last night, how he gets to relive that forever, how you now get to see what he sees for once.

He scrambles to grab his phone off the nightstand while you sit up against the headboard. You seem more than awake now. Joel situates himself beside you and you curl into his side.

"I'm nervous," you admit as Joel pulls up his camera roll and clicks on the most recent video, frozen on a blurry image of you splayed out on the bed.

"You sure you wanna watch?" he checks in, thumb hovering over the play button.

You steel yourself with a deep breath and press the damn button yourself.

He feels you tense the moment it starts. Joel, meanwhile, pulls a long breath in through his nose, nerves igniting in a flash at the images playing back at him. It's exactly the same as what he'd seen last night, but it feels so different now, watching it back on a little screen, imagining how it looks through your eyes. So he focuses on your face, not the recording of him stripping you out of your underwear and burying his face between your thighs. He watches your lips part and your eyes widen, watches the way you shiver when his voice buzzes through the phone's speaker, when the you on camera finally lets herself go and the two of you are treated to every lewd, breathy moan he'd pulled from you the night before.

He finds it's not as weird as he'd thought it'd be to watch himself, especially not when you begin to squirm beside him.

Eventually, he rolls you onto your side and props his phone up against the lamp on your bedside table, pulling you back into his chest and coiling an arm around your front, dipping his fingers into the wet heat of your cunt. Together, you watch, as the Joel on screen denies you orgasm after orgasm, while the Joel behind you deftly makes you come on his fingers.

"You see?" Joel growls into the hollow of your ear, slipping his cock inside you and slowly rolling his hips in time with the video. "You see how fuckin' sexy you are? See how good you take this cock? Best pussy I ever had, you know that?"

You come again, throw your head back into his shoulder and clench around his length, and it's not long after that Joel follows. The video is still going even after he's fucked you full, an obscene backdrop to your panted breaths and the quiet smack of his lips on your shoulders. You reach out and lock the screen, throwing the room back into silence as you settle into his embrace and let your eyes slip closed again.

He's got a long way to go to a million, but as you both drift back to sleep, he thinks he'd happily spend the rest of his life making you come–if you'd have him.

Blue waves lap at the sandy shoreline, turning white to grey under a bright, yellow sun. Warmth beats down on your exposed skin, soaking through your pores where you're laid out on a towel lulling you into that late afternoon, beachy sort of high. You almost feel like you could sleep until you feel the soft touch of Joel's lips caressing your shoulder.

You blink your eyes apart, tilting your head to the side to find he's facing you, leaning on an elbow while his other hand draws a line up your arm. You smile, watching him as he slowly moves to cradle the side of your face. You close your eyes again, peacefully drifting away as Joel pets your hair in long, featherlight strokes. You know you're not alone on this beach, but it feels like you are right now.

"You're so beautiful," he says quietly.

You smile, but you don't open your eyes.

"That's you. How's your back?"

"Fucked."

"Sorry," you smirk, sounding nothing like it.

Joel chuckles and then sighs.

"Would you marry me?"

Your eyes fly open, and for a moment, your heart stops. Joel's hand freezes but doesn't move. He's looking back at you, brows furrowed, doleful and dreamy and maybe a little nervous.

You swallow back a lump in your throat. This isn't a proposal. One little word choice had made that more than clear.

"Would I marry you?" you grin. "Like, hypothetically?"

The lightness in your voice does nothing to settle Joel's apparent anxiety.

"Yeah. Or–don't know." Joel shakes his head, pulling a deep breath in through his nose. "Is that us? Is that what we do?"

You frown. He's so flustered. You turn onto your side to face him properly, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger.

"Why wouldn't it be?" you ask.

Joel's lips twitch.

"'Cause I'm an old man," he grumbles.

"Wait, what? You are?"

Joel's smile widens, clearly relieved at your attempt at brevity.

"Oh, yeah, did I forget to tell you?" he jokes, playing along. "I'm actually fifty-one."

"Oh, shit. Well at least you're not friends with my dad or anything, right?"

"More of a buddy, but..."

"Well, fuck. This is never going to work, then, is it?”

"That's what I've been tryin' to tell you," Joel laughs, leaning in close to lay a kiss on your forehead, his next words hushed against your sun-warmed skin. "But you don't listen."

You breathe a little laugh out through your nose but as Joel pulls away, reality sets in. That tightness constricts in your chest, that burning lump in your throat returning in an instant.

"Are you really asking?" you ask him, painting little patterns over his cheekbone with your thumb. Joel's eyes slip closed at your touch, and he sighs.

"Yes. I want to marry you. But only if you want it, too."

All at once, a future flashes before you, a small wedding somewhere on the water, or maybe an elopement, just you and him. "Songbird" plays through a speaker as you move with him in a slow circle, wrapped in his solid embrace. A kiss to seal it all, that eternal promise of forever. All the years to come, every day ahead like the ones you've shared so far, each more perfect than the last. Then that moment years from now when all the love settles, reaches its peak and then plateaus into the peaceful stability of an everyday certainty. Forever safe in your home, forever safe with your Joel.

You want it, all of it. At least, you want it right now.

"I would," you nod. Joel's eyes swim with a hope that makes you want to cry. You pray to god you're not about to quash it. "I would marry you. But–"

Joel laughs and his hand falls from your head.

"Uh-oh."

"No, listen," you insist, sitting up like it's the most urgent thing in the world. Joel mirrors you and you take both his hands in yours.

"Joel, if there's one thing you've taught me," you start. "It's that nothing ever happens like you think it will. I mean, you…you changed my life. Everything about it. Everything I thought it was gonna be. And there have been so many times where I've thought that should scare me or something but, no matter what happens, all I ever feel is happy. Because I get to be with you."

Wetness begins to prick at your eyes as you speak, Joel's own emotion evident in the crooked set of his jaw.

"So here's the deal," you say. Joel perks up, eyebrows cocking a bit as you resituate yourself to sit on your knees before him. He watches you with admiring bemusement, and you know you're making the right choice.

"If…a year from now–a year from today–we're still this happy, if we still want it this much–you can bring me right back here to this beach and propose to me. And I'll say yes. I promise."

Joel's soft eyes glisten, and something behind his gaze tells you he's already thinking about how he'll do it. The thought makes you giddy. Still,

"'Lot can change in a year," he hums, bringing your hands to his lips to kiss your left ring finger. Your chest swells.

"And a lot can stay the same," you contest. His quiet chuckle is a warm brush of air against your knuckles.

"Alright," he grins. "Deal."

Deal. You dive forward, and, clutching his face between your palms, you kiss him with all the thrill of the first time, and all the familiarity of forever.

"One day at a time, right?" you smile through falling tears.

"One day at a time," he agrees.

The rest of the weekend passes by in a blur. South Padre Island may not be Costa Rica, but it is beautiful, if not stiflingly hot. Like those fateful days at the resort one year ago, you spend your days either knee-deep in the ocean or wrapped up in bed sheets, Joel always in your sights or in your arms. Unlike a year ago, you cling to him without shame, kiss him on the sand and hang off his shoulders in the sea for all to see. No longer a secret. Never a secret again.

Your mother texts you at some point to ask if you're having a good time. You send her a picture of you and Joel, smiling on the beach.

Heather replies to your Instagram story–a video of Joel stalking towards the shoreline in his swim trunks–with a series of little red hearts. You reply with a sparkling pink heart of your own.

You stop caring about how many days are left until you go home, no longer filled with dread at the thought of leaving behind the spoils of vacation. It's taken nearly a year to figure it out, but you think you get it now: It doesn't matter where you are, it matters who you're with. And as long as you're with Joel, you know you'll be okay.

Your last stop is lunch at a diner by the sea. Your things are already packed away in Joel's truck; you'll head straight home from here.

"Wanna go for one more walk, beach baby?" Joel asks casually while he settles up his half of the bill.

"Sure, beach daddy," you giggle. Joel flashes you a smirk–and an eyeroll. Despite giving it your best effort, the daddy thing hadn't really stuck for either of you. It's kind of cute when he's not fucking you, though.

He ushers your out of the booth with an outstretched hand, and the two of you make your way to the exit arm-in-arm, smiling like idiots.

And then the most unlikely thing happens.

As you near the door, two figures suddenly emerge. Two young men, to be precise; one you don't recognize and another who looks awfully different from the last time you saw him.

Chris, with his hair cut shorter and his moustache shaved, freezes mid-sentence as you and Joel approach. And it's the strangest thing, because, in your heart, you know that's Chris, the boy who'd broken your heart, the boy who'd stolen three years of your life and tossed you aside like you were nothing. That's Chris, standing there open-mouthed, clearly recognizing you, no doubt just as astounded as you are to be running into one another here of all places.

And yet, you're mostly shocked to find…you just don't care at all.

Joel, oblivious to the scene unfolding before him, is chatting away beside you about some situation he'll have to deal with when he's back at work tomorrow, and you find it's surprisingly easy to tune out anything that isn't him, even as Chris continues to stare you down with big, befuddled eyes; expectant, demanding.

"S'cuse us," Joel mutters offhandedly as the two of you reach the door, and Chris steps out of the way of the larger, older man without argument. You can feel him gawking at you as you pass, but you only have eyes for Joel as he guides you over the threshold.

Even when Chris begins to call your name and Joel frowns at you in confusion, you just shake your head, never once turning back.

The door swings shut in Chris' face, silencing his voice and obstructing him from view for good. You walk towards the beach with Joel, safe and unbothered, nothing out ahead of you but the ocean and forever.

THE END.

🌴🍹in loving memory of jimmy buffett🍹🌴

#joel miller x reader #fic rec #fic recs #will i ever stop crying about jimmy buffett?#probably not

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