#sugardaddy!joel

[notjustjavierpena]

Wake

A/N: Finally another part of my darksugardaddy!joel. This has been sitting in my WIPs for a while, and I’m so pleased with how it turned out. Be kind to me as I haven’t written in a while and I feel terrible about starving you all of content.

Summary: Joel comes home to fuck your lights out. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dub-con with non-con elements, painful and rough sex, p in v sex, choking, passing out, degradation, abusive behavior, creampie, dirty talk, no aftercare, sugar daddy, daddy kink

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50908876

Wake

It’s a late afternoon when you come to a realization; you don’t love Joel Miller, and you don’t think you could ever love Joel Miller. He is everything that you’ve been taught to hate if you want to believe in fairytales. Your parents would disapprove of him so immediately that you’d be terrified of them cutting you off from them if they knew of his existence.

You’ve never had a man be this rough with you, and only occasionally stroking your hair in apology afterward, but you suppose that the copious amounts of money spent on you - clothes that feel like armor around regular men and expensive bottles of wine that might as well have been potions designed to make you insane - is enough to make up for any unpleasantries within what you don’t dare call a relationship. 

You don’t love him but you can’t hate him. Not in a way that any other person would. How else would you surround yourself with pretty things? You’re no good at anything else than being what he needs.

Whenever he has had a bad day, you know the roughness will increase. It always starts the same; with a slam of the mansion door and a hungry search for you through the obnoxiously large building. He calls for you and you don’t dare not to answer, and in the end, he finds you in the extravagant living room - one of many - with its gold-rimmed glass tables and Chesterfield couches. You’ve been reading a book, but you put it down the second he enters and don’t even bother asking to read to the next full stop. 

“There you are,” he almost heaves for breath with exhaustion from his anger. He isn’t angry at you - you know this - but still, you find yourself treading lightly when his voice is so cold that the living room seems to drop a few degrees in temperature and causing your nipples to harden at the sudden change.

Then, as part of your ritual, he gets a thick wad of bills from the inside pocket of his suit and places it on the nearest surface. A bank transfer won’t do in these situations. He needs something physical, something he can hold in his hand and flash before you, and you know that he wants you to fall to your knees and beg for the warmth and dirtiness of the printed bills against your clean skin.

You’re just about to when he interrupts you.

“There will be more when you wake,” he promises, voice almost too quiet and restrained. Like he is saving his strength. 

You notice his choice of words; when you wake.

Wake.

You gulp. You’ll have to take it in stride. You’ll have to play the part.

You rise from your seat and he watches you patiently. You say nothing as you lower yourself onto the glass table and then lie down on your back, knowing it can hold because Joel would never buy a surface that he couldn’t have you on. 

You’ve learned not to wear anything too difficult to get out of, so it takes little time for you to pull off your skirt. Though you struggle a bit with your underwear since they’re already damp, sticking to the outline of your cunt and the sight makes Joel smirk like the Devil. Curse him, you think, for knowing that you can barely function when he looms over you like a giant, like a dangerous predator that hasn’t tasted blood for weeks. 

When you manage to maneuver your panties down your thighs, he twitches with impatience and curls his whole fist around the cotton fabric. He yanks them down and watches them twist into themselves as he pulls them down over the length of your legs and off your feet. 

They catch on your heels for the tiniest second. He gracefully undoes the ankle straps of them and drops each one onto the floor after taking it off. The anticipation is killing you, toying with your ability to breathe properly and even moreso at the humiliation of only wearing your top now. 

“Pull it down,” he commands, gesturing to it. You start to yank at the bottom to pull it over your head but he growls, “Down. Not off, stupid bitch.”

Oh. 

You pull the neckline down to settle it underneath your breasts, feeling like something on display with the way that Joel takes you in. His cock strains against the front of his pants, his breath uneven, when he cups both of your tits in his hands and pushes them roughly together. His thumbs skim over your hardened nipples, causing you to moan and he responds by pinching them instead until the moan transforms into a whimper.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your pretty little lights go out,” he mutters, pinches, and then tugs a bit on your nipples until you move involuntarily, “Lie still. Don’t give me any shit.”

He takes a step back, his gaze pinning you down whilst he undoes his belt. You refrain from shivering in case he tells you off once more, but you’re so close to doing it when you hear the noise of his zipper. A gush of wetness seeps from you, possibly smearing the glass surface that you are lying on. 

“Please,” you say pathetically.

“Please what?” He asks as if he doesn’t care.

“Daddy,” you present your cunt for him by opening your legs and Joel instinctively looks at your quivering slit, “Please fuck me.”

Joel steps between your legs, using his knees to push them even further apart. He towers over you, cock standing impressively into the air after he has shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs. He tuts at the desperate look in your eyes, “I barely make it through the front door before you’re spreading your legs for me.”

You want to argue that he was the one who sought you out, but he might leave you with a throbbing cunt if you have the audacity to play smart with him, so instead you just nod with a breathless ‘yes’.

He places one knee on the coffee table, following up with scooping a hand underneath the small of your back to align your lower pelvises. His grip is so strong, his bare skin, the amount you are allowed to feel, burns against your own. Like King Midas, his touch enriches you, turns you into something as valuable as gold. 

His cock breaches your tight cunt moments after. He watches you intently as your eyes screw shut with the inevitable sting that it brings due to his generous girth. He seats himself to the hilt inside of you and reaches something you didn’t even know a man could get to when he presses his hand into the spot where it rests on your back. 

“Good girl,” he praises with a strained moan, “How do you feel?”

“Full,” you say shakily and teasingly clench around him. 

He takes in a sharp breath, and before you know it, his free hand has come down on your right breast in a harsh slap. He adds to it by palming your throat afterward, tightly gripping it when you try to squeeze around his length again after not having been given time to react to the consequence of doing it the first time. You smirk up at him and he nearly loses his mind. 

“God, you just want it bad, don’t you, little girl?” His hips draw back and he keeps you waiting for the briefest second before slamming them forward again. The force behind his thrusts is borderline painful, but the way his hand arches your back makes his cockhead pound your front wall. 

The moans you let out are barely there, high-pitched or silent with the way he knocks all wind out of you whilst simultaneously cutting off oxygenated blood to your brain.

He fucks you like an animal, all groans and grunts, sweat dripping from his brow because he is too hungry for dominance to undress. He loves being able to quickly flee the scene afterward and loves leaving you with no clothes on so you cannot follow him. 

But it’s not the amount of clothes that he wears compared to you that gets you close to the edge. It is the fact that nothing around you feels real except for him. Even you don’t feel real but rather closer to an inanimate object that only comes alive because of the dark eyes that penetrate your own. 

You’ve known this fact for a while. Despite the love not being there, you know that after this arrangement has started - you don’t know what else to call it - his mere looking at you is what makes you materialize. 

Your fingers come up to curl around his wrist. You cannot breathe and it fucking hurts, only dulled by the way that your cunt starts to flutter with how close he has gotten you to the edge. You hadn’t expected him to make you come. 

With wide eyes, you look up at him in an attempt to tell him what is going on. He holds your gaze, pleased with himself as he drives into you, “I know, little girl, don’t have to tell me, I can feel you.” 

You don’t have the guts to fight his harsh hand. You take it with tears forming in your eyes and the feeling of your pulse pounding in your neck where it’s fighting to get past his bruising grip. 

“Say it, say that you love me, that you’re nothing without me,” he commands, but when you try to speak it is nothing but a squeak. He has his hand so tightly around your windpipe that you cannot get a word past your lips, drooling and shaking underneath his lack of mercy as your tongue feels too big for your mouth. He grins maniacally down at you as your vision blurs around the edges, “Made you speechless, did I? You filthy whore.”

You have always been familiar with the term putting someone’s lights out, but you’ve never understood the true meaning until Joel came into your life. You come hard, unfolding beneath his touch, with tears on your cheeks - and then there’s nothing.

Like a child falling asleep in a car seat, you have been carried up the stairs and into your bedroom. You sit up in your comfy bed and try to piece together how you have gotten here, and when you realize, it is because of your underwear and skirt messily and hurriedly sitting around your ankles. 

You tug your bottom garments up again. There is something sticky between your legs, and you know, immediately. what it is when you start to shift your legs and are hit with soreness. Everything hurts, but nothing seems to be broken or damaged. 

You glance to your right and spot the stack of bills that Joel had flashed earlier. It is neatly placed on the edge of the table along with a glass of water and some aspirin. You’ll take them soon, need to feel the ache a little while longer.

Instead of doing what is most comfortable (like taking the damn pills), you reach for the money instead. A delusional person would argue that they still feel warm, the temperature somewhere between newly printed and body heat. You take a few of them in your hand, and then you press them against your skin. The fact that you find it soothing is pathetic.

The wonder and innocence of being carried upstairs as a kid doesn’t translate into adulthood, you think, and then you lay down to fall into a deep sleep.

.

.

.

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[joelmillerisapunk]

a sweet arrangement

sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ♡ Sugar Daddy Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,374

Summary: You sign up for a sugar daddy app. What's the worst that could happen?

Warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (both m&f receiving), light bondage, reader might have pullable hair (i dont rememeber if i took it out) quick mentions of slut, baby, sweet baby, sweetheart, darlin

Notes: tysm @saradika-graphics for the dividers. I was cheated on over the weekend, and I wrote this as a "I wish I could be here" instead of being sad." Just another rich!daddy fantasy

You've been feeling financially stretched lately, and after hearing about the concept of sugar daddies and sugar babies from a friend, you decided to give it a try. You sit on your bed and hesitantly create a profile on a popular app, describing yourself as a young, independent woman looking for a mutually beneficial arrangement. As you sit scrolling through, you can't help but feel a sigh of reluctance escape your lips. You never expected to find yourself on a sugar daddy dating app, but life has a way of surprising you sometimes.

After a few moments of looking around the site, a notification pops up. It's a message from a user named "Contractor_Guy."

Curiosity piques, and you open the message, hoping it's not some creepy come-on. To your surprise, it reads:

"Hey there. I don't usually do this sort of thing, but I figured it's worth a shot. My name's Joel. If you're interested in getting to know me, send me a message back."

Feeling intrigued, you reply:

"Hi Joel, I'm not sure what 'this sort of thing' is, but I'm curious now.”

The response comes quickly.

Contractor_Guy: "Haha, 'this sort of thing' is something I usually avoid. But hey, it's a new day, and who knows what it might bring?"

You: Hopefully luck! But seriously, what exactly are you avoiding?"

Contractor_Guy: "Haha, well that's a bit of a long story, darlin.”

You: "Oh, I don't mind a long story. I've got some time to kill. Besides, I find it intriguing that someone like you is on a sugar daddy app.”

Contractor_Guy: "Well, my last experience wasn't the best, and I'm just being cautious this time around.

But, here's the long version. I met a girl a few years back, and at first, things were great. We clicked, and the relationship was mutually beneficial. I was able to provide for her in a way she couldn't for herself, and in return, she was there for me when I needed emotional support. As time went on, she started to change. She became more demanding and less appreciative. It got to the point where she would expect extravagant gifts just for a simple text or phone call. I realized that she was only interested in my money and not in the relationship we'd built."

You: "I'm sorry to hear that. It's not easy to find someone who's genuine and appreciates what you have to offer."

Contractor_Guy: "Yeah, it was a tough lesson to learn, but I'm hoping to find someone different this time. Someone who appreciates the little things, too, not just the material things."

You: "I think that's a fair expectation. We all deserve to be appreciated for more than just our wallets. So, Joel, tell me more about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

Contractor_Guy: "I'm a contractor. I do mostly residential construction and home remodeling projects. What about you? What do you do when you're not scrolling through dating apps?”

You: "Lol, I'm usually at work. I'm a graphic designer, so I spend most of my days in front of a computer. It's not the most glamorous job, but I love what I do."

Contractor_Guy: "A graphic designer, huh? That's pretty impressive. I've always been more of a hands-on guy myself. But I must admit, there's something intriguing about a woman in the arts.”

You: "And who doesn't love a man who can wield a hammer and a chainsaw with equal ease?"

Contractor_Guy: "Oh, I'm definitely good with my hands darlin' ;). ”

You: "Maybe one day you'll show me just how good you are with your hands."

As the conversation continues to flow effortlessly, you both exchange numbers and agree to meet for a coffee date tomorrow. Before signing off, you send a playful message with a picture attached

You: "Well, I'm off to begin the countdown to our coffee date. I'll leave you with this little teaser. ;)"

Insert a picture of you posing confidently in a cute outfit, with a mischievous grin on your face.

Contractor_Guy: "Wow, that definitely has me counting down the hours! I can't wait to see you in person."

With that, you end the conversation eagerly anticipating your first in-person meeting with the intriguing contractor.

The two of you meet for the first time at a trendy coffee shop downtown, and you can immediately sense Joel's charm and confidence. You can tell he's done this a time or two. He offers to buy you a drink and pulls out the mattest black credit card you have ever seen to pay with. He guides you to a table in the back corner, and you both engage in light conversation, discussing your interests and goals. Joel is clearly intrigued by you, and you feel a spark of attraction towards him as well.

"So, tell me more about yourself," Joel says, his eyes locked on yours.

"Well, like I said on the app, I'm a freelance graphic designer," you reply, “It's not the most stable job, but I love what I do."

"I can imagine," Joel says, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I've always been a fan of the arts. But I'm sure you understand the struggles of making ends meet as a freelancer. That's why I'm interested in this arrangement."

"I do understand," you agree, your mind already contemplating the potential benefits of such an arrangement. "It would be nice to have some financial stability while still being able to pursue my passion."

"Exactly," Joel says, his tone firm but understanding. "And in return, I'd like you to be my companion when I need someone to spend time with. We can go on dates, attend social events, or just relax at home. I value your company, you're easy on the eyes and brain, and I believe we would make a great team."

"I think that sounds fair," you say, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I'm looking for something similar - someone who understands my situation and is willing to help me out."

Joel offers to take you to his place for a glass of wine, and as he leads you to his car, the conversation shifts to the details of the arrangement.

"Now that we've established the terms," Joel says, his voice low and serious, "I want to make something clear. I'm going to support you financially in any way you could ever dream of or want, but there's one condition."

"What's that?" You ask, your curiosity piqued.

"I want access to you whenever I please, however I please," Joel says, his eyes meeting yours. "I want to be able to use you for my pleasure whenever I want. Are you comfortable with that?"

Your heart races as you consider his request. You know what he's asking for, and you're not sure if you're ready for that level of intimacy. But at the same time, you can't deny the excitement coursing through your veins.

"I need some time to think about it. This is a big decision."

"Of course," Joel replies, his tone understanding. "Take all the time you need. But remember, this is the condition of our arrangement."

As Joel drives you to his mansion, you can't help but feel a mixture of excitement and trepidation. This is unlike any arrangement you've ever been a part of, and you're not sure what to expect. As you follow Joel upstairs, your heart races in anticipation. He leads you into a large, dimly-lit room, its walls adorned with black velvet and soft, glowing lights. A large bed dominates the center of the room, surrounded by various toys and restraints.

"I want to show you what I mean when I say I want access to you whenever I please.” Joel says, his voice thick with desire.

Joel leads you over to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a seat on the edge, patting the space beside him. "Come here, sweetheart," he says, his voice soft and inviting.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. But the curiosity and excitement pulsing through you win out, and you find yourself sitting down next to him. Joel's hand reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he says, his gaze intense.

You feel your entire body get warm at the compliment, your heart racing faster than ever before. "Thank you," you murmur.

Joel's hand begins to trace a path down your arm, sending shivers coursing through your body. "I want to make you feel good, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and husky. "I want to give you pleasure like you've never experienced before."

Your mind is racing as Joel's hand continues to explore your body. You're not sure what to do, but you find yourself leaning into his touch, your body craving more.

"I want to show you something," Joel says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He stands up and walks over to a large wooden chest at the foot of the bed. He opens it, revealing a variety of toys and restraints. Your heart races as you take in the sight. You've never seen anything like this before, and you're not sure what to make of it. Joel walks back over to you, a blindfold in his hand. "I want to show you how good it can feel to let go and trust someone," he says, his voice soft and soothing.

You hesitate for a moment but something about Joel's words and the look in his eyes makes you feel safe, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. He gently places the blindfold over your eyes, cocooning you in darkness. You can feel his hands on you, guiding you back onto the bed. You trust him, and you let yourself relax into the feeling of his touch.

Joel's hands continue to explore your body, tracing patterns and circles that send shivers of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel the bed shift as he leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to make you feel so good, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. Your breath hitches as his hands continue to wander.

Suddenly, you feel something soft and silky against your skin. It's a scarf, and Joel is using it to gently bind your wrists to the bedposts. You gasp at the feeling of being restrained, but the sensation is not unpleasant. Instead, it heightens your senses, making you more aware of every touch and caress.

Joel continues to explore your body, his hands moving lower and lower until they reach the waistband of your pants. He pauses for a moment, waiting for your consent. "May I?" he asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He slowly begins to slide your pants down your legs, his hands lingering on your skin as he goes. You can feel the heat of his touch, and you find yourself arching up towards him, wanting more. Finally, your pants are off, and Joel's hands are free to explore your body in earnest. He caresses your thighs, your hips, your stomach, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel yourself growing wet, your body responding to Joel's touch in ways you've never experienced before. You moan softly, your hips bucking up towards him. Joel takes the hint, his fingers finding their way to your wetness. He begins to explore you, his touch gentle but firm. You gasp at the sensation, your body quivering with pleasure. His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles that send shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. You find yourself moaning louder and louder, your hips bucking up towards him as you chase the feeling of release. Finally, you can't take it any longer. You cry out as the orgasm washes over you, your body trembling with pleasure. Joel continues to touch you, his fingers gentle as they bring you down from the peak of pleasure.

Slowly, your breathing returns to normal, and you become aware of your surroundings once again. The blindfold is still over your eyes, and you're still bound to the bed. But you feel safe and content, your body still humming with pleasure. He unties the blindfold, and you blink your eyes against the sudden brightness of the room. He's standing above you, a wicked smile on his face. "Did you like that, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes sir," you get out with a hoarse voice.

Joel's gaze travels down your body, taking in the sight of you spread out on his bed, still bound to the bedposts. "Mmm, such a good girl already," he says, his voice full of satisfaction. "I have so much more I want to show you."

He walks over to the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and rummages through it, pulling out a variety of toys and restraints. Joel turns back to you, a pair of handcuffs in his hand. "May I?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

“You may."

Your heart racies with excitement as Joel cuffs your hands above your head, replacing the soft, luxurious ribbon, and securing you back to the bedpost. You test the restraints, finding that they hold you firmly in place. Your heart is racing with excitement, your body tingling with anticipation. He walks back over to the chest and pulls out a vibrator. He turns it on, the buzzing noise filling the room. You watch as he approaches you. He traces the vibrator over your body, teasing you with each touch. You arch up towards him, wanting more. But Joel is in control, and he takes his time, drawing out the anticipation until you're nearly begging for release."Are you ready for more, darlin’?"

“Yes please,” your breath coming in short gasps.

"Good girl." He traces the vibrator lower, teasing your clit with each pass. You moan, your hips bucking up towards him. But he pulls the vibrator away just as you're about to come.

You whimper in frustration, but Joel just smiles. "Patience, baby, patience," he says.

He continues to tease you, bringing you to the brink of orgasm again and again, but never letting you fully come. You're writhing on the bed, your body begging for release when Joel leans down and whispers in your ear. "Do you trust me, sweetheart?"

You nod, your heart racing. "Yes, I do," you whisper.

Joel smiles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. You moan, your hips bucking up towards him. You're ready for whatever comes next.

Joel breaks the kiss, his eyes locked on yours. "I'm going to take you to the edge, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and seductive. "And then I'm going to bring you back again. And again. And again. Until you can't take it anymore."

Joel's hand moves back to the vibrator, tracing it over your clit once again. This time, he doesn't stop. He continues to tease and pleasure you. Suddenly, Joel pulls the vibrator away once again. You whimper in frustration, but before you can protest, he's replaced it with his mouth. His tongue expertly teases your clit. His hands roam your body as he brings you to the brink of orgasm once again. This time, however, he doesn't stop. He continues to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers entering you and curling against your G-spot as he pushes you over the edge.

You cry out, your body shaking with pleasure as you come hard against his mouth. Joel doesn't stop, his tongue continuing to torture you as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. As you come down from your orgasm, you gasp for breath, your body still trembling with pleasure. Joel's gaze is intense as he watches you, his face flushed with arousal.

"That was so, fucking good," you manage to gasp out, your voice still hoarse from your orgasm.

Joel smiles, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm glad you thought so," he says, his voice low and seductive. "But I think it's your turn now."

"My turn?" you ask, your eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yes," Joel says, his smile widening. "It's time for you to return the favor.”

You feel a pang of nerves flood your body. “But I'm still all tied up.”

Joel smirks, leaning in. He grabs the hollows of your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, “ I never said you needed to be untied, did I.”

You swallow hard, your mind racing with the implications of his words. Joel releases your cheeks, his gaze traveling down your body. "You're going to make me very happy tonight, sweetheart. Just remember - I want access to you whenever I please, however I please. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," you reply, your voice full of submission.

Joel's smile widens, and he reaches down to unfasten his pants. He steps out of them and his boxers, revealing a hard, thick, ready erection. He climbs onto the bed, his legs straddling your chest. "Now, I want you to take me into your mouth," he says, his voice firm and authoritative.

Your heart is racing as you obey. He brings it up to your lips, and your tongue darts out to lick the tip. You can taste the hint of salt and musk, and you find yourself growing aroused again. You open your mouth wide to accommodate his size. He tastes so good, so intense, and you can't get enough. You begin to move your head, your mouth sliding up and down his shaft. Joel gasps, his hips bucking up towards you.

Suddenly he grabs your hair and holds his cock to the hilt, filing up your entire throat, blocking your airway. You try to gasp for breath as Joel holds you down on his large throbbing cock but it's no use. Your head is swimming with pleasure and arousal, and you're not sure if you can take anymore. Just then Joel releases his grip on your hair, allowing you to breathe again. You take the opportunity to pull away, gasping for air. Joel smirks down at you. "Such a good little slut for daddy already," he says, his voice full of praise. "Daddy wants to see more. Show me how much you want me."

You nod, your heart racing with anticipation as Joel pulls away and undoes your restraints. When he's back on the bed, you take him back into your mouth, your hands roaming his beautiful, full thighs. You begin to suck and lick at his cock, your tongue exploring every inch of him. You can hear Joel growing more aroused, his breaths coming in short gasps.

You feel a hand on the back of your head, guiding you. Joel is thrusting into your mouth, his cock sliding in and out. You moan around him, your hands reaching up to cup his balls. He's tensing, his hips bucking harder with each thrust. Suddenly, he lets out the most primal groan you've ever heard, his cock swells in your mouth. He thrusts into you one more time before coming. You can feel his warm come filling your mouth, and you swallow it down eagerly. Joel groans, his hips stilling as he rides out his orgasm.

You pull away, gasping for air and Joel collapses onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You can see the satisfaction on his face, and you feel proud of yourself. You've never done anything like that before, and you're not sure how you feel about it. But there's a part of you that's excited, that wants to do it again.

You're both panting heavily, your mind still reeling from the intense experience you've just shared. Joel's gaze is locked on yours, his eyes full of admiration and desire. "You were amazing, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low rumble. "I can't wait to show you more." A wave of excitement washes over you as Joel reaches out and gently strokes your cheek, his fingers lingering against your skin. "I want to make this arrangement work, darlin," he says, his voice soft and earnest. "But I need to know that you're in this for the right reasons."

Your heart races as you consider his words. You know what he's asking, and you're not sure if you're ready for the level of intimacy and commitment this arrangement requires. But at the same time, you can't deny the excitement coursing through your veins, the thrill of being desired and pursued by someone like Joel. You nod, your heart racing with both excitement and trepidation. "I think I'm ready to accept your condition," you say, your voice low and hesitant. "But I need to know that you're in this for the right reasons, too."

Joel's eyes meet yours, his gaze intense and serious. "I promise you, I want nothing more than to care for and support you, both financially and emotionally," he says firmly. "And I expect the same companionship in return."

You take a deep breath, your mind racing with the implications of your decision. But there's a part of you that's eager to explore this new world, to find out what it means to be truly desired and cared for by someone like Joel.

"Okay," you finally say, your voice full of resolution. "I want to make this arrangement work too."

Joel's face breaks into a smile, his eyes filled with relief and joy. He pulls you into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Thank you, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice full of gratitude. "I'm going to make sure you never regret this decision."

---

Thanks for reading ❤️ let me know if you'd like more from these two

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Take Care of You [10]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[A/N: 🤡. I came back to life to immediately die off again i'm so sorry. here take this next part and all my love. speaking of my love, i already closed beta readers on tiktok but for anyone on here, if you wanna see why i've been so MIA, shoot me a message with your email if you wanna beta read my original work (i do ask that you do a questionnaire afterwards but that's just to help me out). But, imagine a scifi/fantasy where the book 'Six of Crows' meets 'The Last of Us', and I have good sources that y'all like TLOU👀]

[A/N pt.2: I did not edit this to the degree I should have and there is no tag list at the bottom i am so so so so sorry].

10: THE EVIDENCE IS PRETTY DAMNING

The ceiling wasn’t right. 

That was your first, foggy thought when your eyes opened. Rather than the bumpy, plaster speckles collecting dust it was smooth and off white. You slowly sat up with a groan, head spinning and mouth dry, and you blinked three times before your situation dawned on you. This was not your bed, not your house. Fuck. You set your hands on the bed to lean back then winced. With a hiss, you pulled your hand up and saw the bandaged injury from last night.

You cradled the hand with your other and turned to hang your legs over the edge of the bed. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a note on the nightstand. You leaned over. There was a full water bottle and a bottle of tylenol resting on top of a piece of paper. On the paper, in scratchy, nearly illegible, writing was, ‘Come downstairs when you’re ready. Feel free to use the shower and change if you want. ⏤Joel’. You dragged your fingers to trace the words. 

With a shaky breath, you grabbed the water bottle and took a couple pills in hopes to nurse the aches and pains you felt. You stared at the words again. Last night, Joel admitted to being married to Sarah’s mom and you had responded by passing the fuck out. You had tried to argue, demand more information, but your body fought against your curiosity. All the drinks you had prior and the fading adrenaline from the fight probably hadn’t helped. 

You rose from the bed with a groan and crossed to use the bathroom adjoined to Joel’s bedroom. When you flicked the lights on, you took the first movement to glance around the space. The walls were beige with white tile floors. On one side was a large jacuzzi style tub next to an expansive walk in shower. On the other was ample counter space and drawers with matching him and her sinks. In the back was the small room where the toilet sat and beyond that a walk in closet. The space was lived in. A dirty clothes basket off to the side half full, toiletries on the counter and on the shelves in the shower, you spotted a pair of glasses you had never seen Joel wear resting by the sink on the right side of the counter. That must be the one Joel used most. A toothbrush sat by it and you noticed water by the rim like he hadn’t wiped up when finished.

Also on the counter were a stack of clothes, you stepped toward it and saw it was a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants that must have belonged to him. On top of it was a brand new toothbrush. Your gaze lifted to look at yourself in the mirror and you flinched. You looked a mess⏤ your hair, your clothes, everything. You rubbed at your face with a sigh and slipped into a morning time routine despite the unfamiliar setting. 

Celina.

The name rang in your head over and over and over again. It didn’t matter that you had been only half with it last night. You remembered that clearly. As you cleaned up, your headache began to improve and by time you left the bathroom you at least felt human again. A new anger bubbled just under your skin. You couldn’t quite yet put your anger into words, but you knew it was there. After washing up, you traded the clothes you wore to the bar for the ones Joel left you. The shirt was worn out, like it was aged, and navy in color. It read ‘Miller’s Contracting’ with a number on it for contact. It reminded you of the kind of shirt a small company would make and not a multi-million dollar one. You tightened the waistband of Joel’s sweatpants. They were at least joggers so you didn’t have to worry about tripping over yourself.

You crossed the upstairs, open space to the stairs. Faintly, you heard the sound of someone moving around downstairs. A brief wave of nervousness had you hesitating at the top of the stairs, but it slipped away back to anger. It seemed that was where your heart was making camp this morning.

Slowly, you descended the stairs. The wooden floors under your feet didn’t creak or make noise as you padded into the living room first. A few couches were situated in front of a wall that held a large flat screen TV and a fireplace. The back wall was made of glass, a window and door all in one that revealed the back patio where a small pool and deck were, and the space beside it was the kitchen. Just as open as the rest of Joel’s house. The cabinets were made of dark wood with matching countertops and at the center was a large island with chairs. 

On the island counter looked like to-go boxes of food. You stared at them a moment longer, but a door hidden just out of view on the wall in the kitchen opened. Joel stepped into the kitchen nonchalantly until he spotted you and did a double take. He froze and stared. The two of you were actually similarly dressed. He had on a t-shirt that looked tight on his broad shoulders and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Joel looked exhausted.

“Hey.” He said softly. “Mornin’, sug⏤” Joel stopped himself, it looked like he choked on his words, but he locked his jaw and changed direction. “Mornin’. How did you sleep?” You gave a small shrug and a tight lipped smile. “Right. How’s your…” Joel lifted his own hand. “Your hand?”

You lifted it up to stare down at it. The bandages had been pulled away when you washed up this morning. It didn’t look so bad. “It’s fine. Thanks for the⏤ the tylenol. And the toothbrush. And the,” You motioned to the clothes hanging off your frame, “You know.”

“Can I?” Joel nodded toward you.

“I said, it’s fine, Joel.”

“I…” He sighed and the look in his eyes was agonizing. “I know you’re pissed at me. Understandably so. But, please let me…”

You walked over to sit down at one of the tall chairs at the island counter and set your hand on the marble top. Joel mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and disappeared for a quick second. He was back with a small first aid kit again. You twisted your lips when you felt his warm hand cautiously take yours. It was quiet as he reapplied a bit of medicine to the hand before wrapping it up again. 

“You don’t…” Joel started then cleared his throat. You never would have used the word anxious to describe the Joel you had gotten to know thus far, but nervous energy seemed to radiate off him. The tension in his shoulders looked painful to keep hold of. “I had breakfast delivered. Some stuff I know you like.” Joel pulled his hand away from yours. “But you don’t have to stay if you don’t wanna.”

“No. I want to.” You replied. Joel looked briefly hopeful. “I want to talk about this. I want⏤ to know. I want answers.”

“Right. Of course.” Joel nodded quickly. “I owe you at least that.” You nodded in agreement. Joel straightened from where he stood and ran a hand over his chest and shoulder with a quiet cough. “Can I make you something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?”

You gave a small nod, mumbling a response, and watched as Joel put it all together. He poured himself a cup of coffee after serving you. Rather than take the seat beside you, he stood on the other side of the island counter across from you.

“You mentioned the girl from Vegas last night briefly, but how did you know…”

“Yo-yo told me you had a sugar baby before me. That you married her.”

“I did have a sugar baby before you, yes.” Joel sighed.

“Why did you lie to me?” You demanded.

Joel shook his head, “I never lied to you. I just⏤ I never told you, and you never asked.”

“Really?” You scoffed. “That’s what you wanna hang your hat on here? Semantics?” Joel hung his head then shook it a bit. “I didn’t want to believe her, but yesterday Nima texted someone she knows. A private investigator⏤”

Joel’s eyes widened, “You hired a private investigator??”

“I didn’t hire anybody! Nima just texted them and they confirmed⏤”

“You went to a PI before just asking me?” Joel replied sharply. You leaned back in your seat⏤ in shock at his audacity. He must have noticed how you felt because he held up a hand. “I just mean, that’s a huge invasion of privacy and all you had to do was call me⏤”

You pushed out of your seat and turned to leave. Joel called out after you before following. He grabbed your hand to tug you to a stop and you glared at him over your shoulder. You snapped, “If you’re just going to stand there and be defensive then there’s no reason for me to be here, Joel.” You pulled your hand out of his grip and spun to face him. “I understand that getting in contact with a fucking PI was a crazy move, but yesterday I felt a little crazy.” You scoffed. “I felt like an idiot. I felt like a naive, desperate idiot who got played. So, yeah, I let Nima text her cousin’s cousin’s cousin to find an answer because the thought of standing in front of you and asking⏤”

The rest of your words got caught in your throat. You didn’t want to get emotional in front of Joel. More than anything you wanted to keep your cool and be collected. Just in case he did break your heart, you could walk away with at least some of your dignity intact. Joel took a step closer. Thankfully, he didn’t try to touch you, but he did lift his hands slightly in surrender.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m being defensive. Hell, I'm being an ass.” You locked your jaw and let your eyes focus on something over his shoulder. Unable to stare into those deep, dark eyes. “This is… This isn’t an easy subject for me to talk about and I⏤ I panicked. I want you to hear me out. I want you to know the truth.” He shifted in his stance so your gaze was forced to meet his. The longing there made you suck in a sharp breath. “Please. Give me another chance to explain this. I’ll do better.”

You rubbed the back of your neck with your non-injured hand and gave a small nod.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Joel repeated himself. He took a step back but kept his shoulders facing you as if he thought you were a flight risk. Joel motioned to his couch. “Do you wanna sit? I’ll grab our drinks.” You sighed and meandered over to sit down on one end of his leather couch. Joel didn’t move back into the kitchen until after you were seated. He came back with both of your drinks and handed you your own before sitting on the other side of the couch. One cushion of space between the two of you. 

You took a sip, trying to gather your thoughts, before nodding once. “I want to know about your wife first. Celina, you said? I want to know about her.”

“Yeah.” Joel swallowed thickly. “Do you remember anything I mentioned about Sarah’s mom before?”

“I didn’t know her name.” You replied. “You said the two of you had dated for, like, three months?” Joel nodded. “She got pregnant, and you worked it out. Things were fine, but two weeks after Sarah was born she left. You never said the two of you got married though.”

“Because we didn’t.” Joel replied softly. “I asked. Proposed to her when we found out she was pregnant with Sarah, and she said no.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he wasn’t meeting your gaze anymore. Joel stared down at the coffee mug in his hands. “I loved her. She was my first real love, actually. I knew our situation wasn’t ideal, but… I wanted it to work. I saw a future with her.” Joel ran his thumb back and forth on the edge of his mug’s rim where it reached. He chuckled, “When Sarah was born… Those two weeks? It was⏤ It was good. But, uh, then she left.” Joel shrugged in a way that attempted nonchalance but did not meet the mark. “Her leaving hurt for a lot of reasons. For one, in no way was I prepared to take care of a newborn.”

You set your drink on the coffee table before leaning back. Joel stayed silent, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and you recognized the look of someone getting stuck in their own memories. You spoke up, “What happened then? When did you get married?”

“Celina is…” Joel began. He rubbed his jawline. “I spent a lot of time being furious with her⏤ hating her. Not just for leaving me behind, but for leaving Sarah. Sarah deserved better.” He shook his head. “But she… she came to me, needing help, and I⏤ I couldn’t say no. Not to her. And not because I still had any sort of feelings for her, but because no matter how angry I was at her she gave me Sarah.” A vulnerable softness filled his features and he finally lifted his head to meet your gaze fully. “Without Celina, I wouldn’t have Sarah.”

You could understand that. You knew that his daughters meant absolutely everything to Joel. More so, despite all the shit going on between the two of you right now, despite Joel arguing otherwise, you knew he was a good man. You had a very hard time picturing him saying no to anyone who came to him for help. 

“When did she come to you? And why? What problem is solved with marriage?”

“Three years ago. Just about.” Joel mumbled. “It’s… She was sick. Cancer. The only feasible treatment was going to bankrupt her because her insurance refused to cover the cost. Celina came back wanting to see Sarah. Get to know her before she died.” Your eyes widened in surprise at both the news and the confusion that came with trying to connect the dots. “I told her that was up to Sarah⏤ she was old enough to make that decision for herself and I was gonna support her with whatever she chose.”

You nodded slowly, “Okay…”

“Sarah decided she did want to meet her mom. And I…” Joel paused. He set his coffee mug down on the coffee table as well and laced his fingers together. He was fidgeting. Another nervous tick of his. Joel could never seem to keep his hands still when he was caught in his own mind. It was like his hands so desperately wanted to fix what stressed him out⏤ even if it wasn’t a physical problem they could fix. “I⏤ I couldn’t stop thinking… remembering…”

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, and the palpable pain had you shifting closer. It dawned on you. Words clicking in your mind. You set a hand on his forearm and gave it a small squeeze, “Your mom.” Joel had told you, ages ago, that he had lost his own mother to cancer. “You lost her. I remember you telling me.”

“Yes.” Joel unlaced his own fingers so he could settle one hand on top of yours⏤ still resting on his forearm. The tip of his thumb dragged back and forth against the knuckle of your index finger. Tracing the shape of it. “It wasn’t… It wasn’t the exact same, I know that, but… Sarah technically had already lost her once.”

“Joel…”

“I offered to pay. Pay for the treatment in full.” Joel’s thumb stilled to squeeze your hand once. “I’d cover all the costs, but⏤ but Celina refused. Said she didn’t want,” Joel scoffed with a humorless laugh, “Didn’t want to be a ‘charity case’. Said she didn’t come back for my money, or for me to fix the problem, she came back for Sarah.” Joel shook his head. “We argued in circles for God knows how long. We finally settled on this. If we got married, she’d have my insurance instead of her own. My insurance would cover most of the treatments and she’d pay what it didn’t.”

You understood that. It matched up with what you knew about Joel. “How is she? Now?”

“In remission. Since seven months ago, she’s been in remission.” A small smile flickered on his features. “She lives in Waco. Wanted to be closer to Sarah. One of the only reasons I could stomach all of us coming to LA while Sarah stayed in Texas for college. I knew she’d at least have her there in case of emergencies.”

Your face scrunched in question, “Then why… Why are you still married?”

“I don’t have a reason. Not a real one. Not beyond me just being lazy.” Joel said firmly. He held your hand tight, keeping it pinned to his arm, like it was a lifeline. “Up until now, it didn’t matter to me. It made no difference. That’s it. I swear to you, sugar.” The nickname fell out of his mouth like second nature. “And I’m working on changing that already. You can ask Tommy or⏤ or hell I’ll give you Celina’s number or our lawyer’s number. We started the official divorce paperwork the day you and I got back from Vegas. It was the first call I made after dropping you off at your place.”

You did believe him. As Joel held your gaze, all you could see in those soulful eyes was a deep desperation. An ache seeking the comfort that would come with reassurance. “I believe you.” You said softly and his eyes closed in relief. His entire body sagged as the tension seeped out of it. You really did believe him, and of all the ways this could’ve gone wrong technically you supposed this was the best case scenario. However, learning this made you realize what aspect of this bothered you more than most. You slid your hand out from under his. “Why… Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was… I was going to. After.”

“Why though? Why after?” You shook your head. “Why didn’t you trust me with this?” Joel’s face fell again. “I know we haven’t known one another for long, but…” You bit back your words before you admitted to the naive truth that you felt some sort of connection to him. That being with him was as easy as breathing and you foolishly let yourself get carried away. “I don’t…”

Joel quickly scooted closer, a hand held up in surrender, “Had nothing to do with⏤ with me not… I do trust you. I do.” Joel shook his head. “Me not mentioning this had nothing to do with you. It was me.” His words reminded you of Vegas. This excuse was sounding familiar and the more you heard it the harder it was to believe. He hung his head and winced. “I need to tell you about⏤ about Erina.”

“That’s…” You began. “Is that your sugar baby?

“Yeah.” Joel nodded. “But it was more complicated than that.”

“So, I’m gathering.” You mumbled. The words of frustration left your lips before you could filter them. In this situation, you felt you had every right to be upset and bitter, but the look of pained guilt that filled Joel’s features made every cell in your body vibrate with regret. It felt like you had just kicked a puppy, and those sad, brown eyes were heart wrenching. “Sorry.”

Joel shook his head quickly. “No. Don’t. You don’t need to be sorry. I do.”

“You’re talking to me⏤ answering my questions.” You replied with a small shrug. “The least I can do is not be petty.” You twisted your lips. “So? Tell me about her.”

“She wasn’t my sugar baby to begin with.” Joel started softly. He turned his head to keep his gaze on the mug sitting on the coffee table, and you found the story easier to stomach without those powerful eyes focused on you. “My company got hired for a job. It was a big one, which is why it came across my desk. Some summer project. A finance guy wanted his vacation house completely renovated in Malibu. I decided to take a more hands on position for the entire thing. Stayed on site to work.” It wasn’t a shock to hear. You were plenty aware that Joel spent most of his work time on site if he could. Joel only donned a tie for the board room when Tess wrestled him into it. “The guy who hired us wasn’t there, but his wife was. At least, I thought it was his wife.”

“But it wasn’t.”

Joel gave out a sad chuckle, “No. She wasn’t. Erina was… lively and energetic. She was fun, and I… It had been a long time since I experienced that kind of light hearted fun. Plus, the client, when he did come around, was such an asshole to her and I⏤” Joel sighed. “She left him midway through the project, but we didn’t get involved with one another until after it was over. When it started, it was great. The honeymoon phase was…” His voice trailed off as a small, sad smile crossed his face. You found your stomach churn in jealousy at him talking about this other woman. It was damn near nonsensical, but the emotion rose up regardless. “The issues started a while in. I realized that we saw the relationship differently. I thought… I thought what we had was real, and she only saw me as her new sugar daddy.”

For a while, we just went on. I didn’t think the difference in how we viewed things would matter. Stupid, I know, but… I thought I was happy.” Joel mumbled the last bit. He lifted a hand to rub at his jawline. “As you’ve probably figured out, I’m not⏤ I’m not good at this. Relationships and…” He tensed. “Some people are just better off alone, but I’ve been too hard headed to accept that.”

“Joel.” You interrupted the flow of his story at his claim. You didn’t believe that and you especially refused to believe it about Joel. “That’s not⏤”

“Things were still working until I…” Joel shook his head. “I told her about Celina. Tried to explain the situation to her, but when she told me to get divorced and I couldn’t⏤ that’s when it all started to crumble. I didn’t actually end the relationship until after I found out she was seeing a few other guys.” You opened your mouth the speak, the beginnings of a sentence you didn’t know how to end slipping from your tongue, but Joel suddenly turned in his seat to face you and the look in his eyes silenced any attempt at speech. He hesitantly reached out and let his hand settle on top of yours. When you didn’t pull away, he squeezed his grip tighter. “You and Erina are not the same. It wasn’t until after we stopped seeing one another that I realized how terrible our relationship had been. So please, please, don’t think I’m comparing you to her because I’m not. I know how she reacted is not some⏤ some default and you wouldn’t necessarily react the same, but… but every time I considered telling you about Celina, all I could imagine was you leaving. And I, selfishly, stopped myself from admitting the truth to you because I didn’t want to ruin this the way I ruin everything else.”

You murmured his name. Early on, you recognized Joel had trust issues, but you had never realized it stretched this far. Joel didn’t trust even himself. It broke your heart that he thought so poorly of himself. No matter how upset you were at the man you knew deep down he was a good. His mistake had hurt you, but it hadn’t been born of malice. You saw that now. Fear and self doubt had brought the two of you to this crossroads. 

“Joel, that isn’t true.” You said softly. “You don’t ruin everything.”

“The evidence is pretty damning.” Joel chuckled sadly. You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head quickly and held out a hand to stop you. “That’s not the point of… I should’ve told you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I should’ve told you, been up front about it all, and I’m sorry.” Joel sighed. “I’m sorry, sugar.”

He had answered a number of your questions and with the truth came the relief of knowing.  Plus, the answer technically hadn’t been your worst case scenario. God knew your brain was plenty capable of thinking up some nightmare-ish situations. So in comparison, it would be worse. Still, there was an itch that hadn’t quite yet been scratched.

“Why… Why seek out a new sugar baby?” You asked. His experience with Erina had obviously been less than ideal so why try again? You shook your head, “Why me?”

“Those are two very different questions.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I …” Joel began hesitantly. You could see his thoughts jumbling in his mind as he struggled to string one along. Conversations like this were hardly considered Joel’s comfort zone so you did appreciate that he was trying. That went a long way as well. “Erina came back into my life not so long ago.” You felt your stomach drop and your heart clench painfully. The emotional response was so physical that it nearly made you sick. Joel must have noticed because he quickly reached out and settled a hand on your shoulder. “No. Not like that. She means nothing to me. She came to me wanting to get back together, harassing me about it, but I’ve made it crystal clear to her and everyone around us that I have no interest in restarting something with her. Especially now.”

“Okay…”

“The idea was…” Joel winced sheepishly. “The idea was to hire a sugar baby as a way to show her that I was serious. We were done and I was moving on.” It was ridiculous enough that from anyone’s else mouth you wouldn’t have believed them, but they had been said in Joel’s sincerity. “I know how that sounds.”

“Not good. It sounds not good.”

“I know. Everyone told me it was a bad idea. Tess, Sarah, Ellie.” You found it interesting that his daughters knew about their father’s love life to that degree. It spoke to how close they were and his stance on honesty. Joel chuckled. “Actually, the only person who agreed with me on the plan was Tommy, but I suppose that should’ve been a sign to give it up.” Your lips twitched up mildly in amusement. “But, deep down I knew it would hurt Erina, and I… I wanted to be petty.”

You shrugged, “And I’m apart of this… how? To annoy Erina?”

“No.” Joel said firmly, almost roughly. “Absolutely not. Remember the day you bought me that coffee? I said I had been meeting with some other, um, women?” You nodded and let him continue. “By time I made it to the that coffee shop, I had already half decided to give up the idea. It was obviously going poorly. I was literally just looking for someone I wouldn’t mind spending time with and I couldn’t even do that. But you were… God, meeting you felt like a breath of fresh air.” He messily ran a hand through his hair while his other continued to fidget. “You stayed on my mind and when I spotted you again…”

“I…” You tried to find the right words. The ones he would want to hear. It felt odd to give forgiveness for a misunderstanding, but you knew that’s what he was seeking. Validation. “I forgive you.” 

The relief on Joel’s face was staggering and when he held a hand out to you, you knew exactly what he was asking for. You closed the space and let him pull you into a hug. His warm, large hands enveloped you as he craddled the back of your head to hold you as closely to him as you could. You wrapped your own arms around him and lazily dragged your thumb up and down where it rested. 

You did forgive him for this. That was the truth and you meant it with your whole heart, but this entire experience was eye opening. You had fallen for Joel so dangerously fast. It made you realize that if this had been a different scenario, one of the nightmare-ish ones you imagined, it would’ve destroyed you. With the speed you were moving in, you would’ve hit the ground at a million miles per hour and shattered. You forgave Joel, but you needed to figure out a way to better guard your heart.

“I’m sorry for reaching out to a PI.”

“No. Don’t be.” Joel pulled back and the hand at the back of your head dragged forward to cup the side of your face. He sighed, “You were right. I should’ve handled this better, but I… I do appreciate you saying so.” The two of you sat in a moment of silence and for the first time since you met him that silence felt awkward. Joel must have felt it as well based on the clearing of his throat and fidgeting. “So… Are we— Are we okay?”

You nodded, “I think so.” The tension left Joel’s shoulders and you quickly stood. “I should… I should go.”

“You’re off today though, aren’t you?” Joel stood as well.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Stay. Please.” Joel motioned back to the kitchen. “Have breakfast. I called Tommy and he’s gonna bring over your stuff.” Your eyes widened in surprise and he shrugged. “Tommy is gonna bring over your friend who has your stuff I should say.”

You hesitated, nervous after this heart to heart, but Joel held out a hand to you. Equally a peace offering and lifeline. You just weren’t sure if it was a lifeline for you or him. You set your hand in his and he gave it a small squeeze. The smile on his face was soft and open. Two words you knew not many people were able to claim as a description with him. 

Joel led you back toward the kitchen and when you turned to try and go back for your mug he stopped you. He settled you on one of the bar stools, hands lingering on your hips briefly, before going back to the living room for both your mugs. 

“You know, when I pictured you spending the night here this wasn’t quite how I thought it’d go.” Joel chuckled and grabbed a plate. You leaned on the counter and waited since you knew that plate he was making was meant for you. It took a second for his words to dawn on you. Joel pictures you spending the night in his home with him? Your face and neck warmed at the thought. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had those kinds of ideas, but hearing it from him still made your heart flutter. Even with the disaster miscommunication still lingering in your rear view mirror. “Here. Lemme know if you want anything else.” Joel set the plate in front of you and handed you a fork. After making his own plate, he pulled the barstool beside you closer and sat down. He sat sideways to face you and his knee pressed against your stool. “We could, uh, we could have a day in.”

“Hm?” You took a bite of your food.

“We’re both in pajamas and neither of us have work.”

“You don’t have work?” You asked in surprise.

Joel shook his head. “I already called Tess and told her I wasn’t coming in today. Told her I was feeling sick.”

“Did she actually believe you?” You smirked.

“No.” Joel chuckled. “She didn’t. But she also didn’t call me out on my shit, so…”

He gave you a charming smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood, and you found you appreciated it. Things weren't perfect, but for the sake of what had been you were willing to try.

[macfrog]

hanging on the telephone a sex on fire one shot

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: your boss picks a convenient time to ask for a favor.

warnings: age gap eat my fuckin shorts (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, joel likes (semi) public sex again!, softdom!joel, fingering, unprotected piv, daddy kink, praise kink, cursing. takes place somewhere between state-of-the-art and mile high.

word count: 2.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

“Sh– Fuck – Shit –”

“So goddamn tight, baby, she’s so –” he pinches your hip with his left hand, presses harder on your clit with his right thumb, “– she’s so fuckin’ tight for me.”

“Daddy, I’m…I’m gonna c…Oh, shit, I'm...”

Joel tips his head back, two beats of cocky laughter pushing from his chest. Even with your vision quickly blurring, your eyes rolling shut, you can still see the way his jaw flexes with it, the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Can hear the curve of the words, shaped by the smirk on his lips.

“You gonna come, baby? That what you’re tryna tell me?”

Your hips circle, body clenching around three thick fingers. “M-hm,” you force through gritted teeth.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” he growls, feeling your little cunt squeezing down to his knuckles. “That two now, or three?”

“Th-three.”

“Three,” he whispers, though you know he already fucking knew. He just wanted you to admit it. Wanted to watch as your lips twisted around an answer, struggled through your orgasm quickly approaching. “’n how long have we been alone?”

Your head tilts onto your shoulder, hands reaching down to clutch around his big wrist. You grip onto the strap of his watch, the cold glass face shocking your burning skin.

Joel laughs again, a hot breath of air across your lips, but he doesn’t slow the snap of his fingers, the circles of his thumb. He takes your jaw in his free hand and turns your ear to his lips, whispering, “Asked you a question, baby girl.”

“F-uh-ck,” you whine, hips beginning to give. “I don’t know, Daddy, I don’t –”

His teeth nip at your lobe, lips press into the skin under your ear. A low rumble, wet on your skin when he murmurs, “Ain’t even been ten minutes.”

There had been no recovery time between your first two orgasms. The first bled straight into the next – Joel and his fingers had drawn them from your body before the elevator had even delivered Martha to the lobby, you’re willing to bet.

She’d buttoned her coat, announced that she needed some fresh air – offered for you to join her, and then shook her head when you called back from Joel’s office that you were fine, thanks, Martha.

Maybe she’s onto the two of you. Maybe she knows all the signs of a secret work romance. Hell, maybe Joel’s done this before. You don’t fucking know.

Reason (and perhaps a smidge of desperate hope) convinces you otherwise. Still – you can’t remember the last time the woman left for lunch alone. Can’t remember the last time she gave you two peace in Joel’s office for more than ten minutes, without popping her head in to gossip or roll her eyes at the pair of you.

You hadn’t been up to anything when she was here, anyways – but it didn’t take long after hearing that sharp ding and the signature rattle of the doors announcing her departure, for Joel’s hands to find your waist.

He made some quip, like, Maybe she’s got her own secret man she’s off to see, and you hadn’t the time to come up with anything worth half a laugh before he pulled you into his lap and slipped his fingers up the inside of your thigh.

When did this become what you do, anyway, you wonder? Sneaking around behind your colleagues’ backs; feeling brave enough to slip a palm down your boss’s front and cup his fucking dick through his pants anytime he looks at you a heartbeat too long. Letting the guy spread your legs on the desk you’ve worked at for three years now; letting him kiss and lick and feast between your thighs.

When did this become normal?

He’s intoxicating. He’s all you fucking think about these days. I’m bored, tell me something funny. Can I sit here while you’re on that meeting? When can we fuck next? No one ever fucked me like you do.

“Fuck,” Joel grunts, wrist slowing as the edges of your vision blur. “Like that, baby girl?”

“Just – just like that,” you beg, hands gripping around his shoulders.

“She likes that, doesn’t she?” Joel utters, pulling you closer. “Come on, baby, give me one more.”

The world halts for a second, splits in two, and crashes back together, throwing you over the edge. You come with a pathetic whimper, folding over Joel’s body and rocking uncontrollably, gripping onto his hair to steady yourself.

His arm wraps around the small of your back, holding you down on his hand until you loosen again – his fingers soaked, glistening. He slips them out, rubbing your clit slowly with his middle finger.

“Fuck,” you breathe, reaching for his hand.

His fingers knot around yours, your release slippery and warm on his knuckles. He takes your jaw in his other hand, pulls you in, and slips his tongue across yours. Something wet and needy, something as meaningless as it is meaningful.

Something which beckons your hands to his belt, your fingers slipping behind the thick leather.

The moment is interrupted by an annoying ping from Joel’s phone discarded to the opposite side of the desk.

Blindly, still with his lips attached to yours, he reaches over and swipes it with one hand. He breaks apart the kiss to look down, blinking at the screen. “Oh, shit,” he says, flatly.

You lean over, one hand still lazily playing with his, squinting at the upside-down text thread. “What?” you ask, fiddling with the undone buttons of his shirt.

“Shit,” again, hissed and now…irritated. “Did you–? I didn’t ask you to book a table at Ricci’s, did I?”

“The Italian place?”

Joel nods, hurriedly.

You shake your head, slowly. A little confused. “Why? What’s…?”

“I’m meeting a client there this afternoon,” he mutters, shifting in his chair. The movement rocks you back and forth, but Joel keeps a hand on your hip to hold you.

A weight you know all too well brushes the inside of your thigh. You both clock it. And then you both ignore it.

“Goddamn it,” Joel groans. “There ain’t no chance that Martha…?”

Your head tilts. “You know damn well you don’t trust anyone with that shit but me. No, it’s not booked. You never asked. But it’s fine, just call ‘em. These places can always make room, Mr. Miller.”

Joel squints, jaw lifting when you drag your nose along it to kiss his neck. His rough beard scratches your nose and chin.

But he’s squinting, when you pull back. Half-turning away from you, one eye closed; mouth twisted in a dumb smirk.

“What?” you ask, frowning.

“You can’t do it for me?”

Your eyes roll. “You fucked up,” you fix the tousled strands of his hair back into place, “fix it. You’re a big boy.”

“Willing to pay you a little extra,” he offers, pulling your hips down against his crotch. “Generous amount.”

“Generous,” you echo, letting him drag your slick mess all over his black pants. Your fingers slip beneath his belt, loosening the fly of his pants.

He’s hard already – solid and heavy when your hand dips below his boxer shorts and wraps around his warm cock. Turned on just by the feeling of you around his fingers, the sight and sound of you unraveling in his lap.

He hisses quietly when you pull him free; smearing wet onto your fingers as you drag your fist up and down. And when you look back up, he’s not watching his cock in your hands. Not looking at the skin exposed by your tangled underwear, your skirt sitting almost as high as your waist.

He’s looking straight at you. Your fluttering eyelashes, your tongue dabbing at the wet forming along your bottom lip. His eyes shoot quick as lightning from one to the other. “Like playing with it, huh?” he asks quietly. “’s your favorite thing in the world.”

You grin. “Like it better when it’s…” you push yourself up, running his wide tip along the seam of your cunt, separating your folds and pausing right below your vagina, “…here.”

Joel’s hands push heavier on your hips – lowering you slowly and gently enough that you could stop him, but sure and steady enough that he knows you won’t dare to. He breaches your opening, intrusion enough to stop your breathing, and slips in.

It glides in so smoothly, so easily that you barely feel the stretch at first. Still soft and soaked from your third release, your body pulls him in – until it starts to hurt.

A tiny gasp from your lips and Joel holds his arms out, letting you clutch onto the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. “Easy, easy,” he says, holding your elbows.

It’s only been a couple times. And as good as they were, you’re still not used to him. He’s still bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before; it still hurts just a little, anytime he pushes in.

But still, you smile bracing yourself now with two palms on his chest – his hair damp with sweat in little swirls on the skin below his clavicle. “Still not – callin’ them,” you pant, taking him halfway.

Joel clicks his teeth, studying your cheeky expression. “Be a big girl ‘n do it,” he whispers, eyes following the round trail of your fingers on his sticky chest. “Do it for your daddy.”

You look up at him, smirk tugging on the corners of your lips. “’n what if Daddy doesn’t deserve it? You – shit – you fucked up,” you repeat.

Joel’s hips lift from the chair, cock slipping deeper, painfully slow as it fills you all the way. When the coarse hair at his base meets your clit, your nails digging little curved marks into his skin, he smirks. “He feel like he don’t deserve it to you?”

“No,” you gasp suddenly, eyes screwing shut, “feels – feels so good, Daddy.”

“Uhuh. You gonna call the restaurant for him?”

Another splintered breath. He’s so fucking big, so uncomfortable when you’re sat on him like this. “Yeah,” you whine, “I’ll call ‘em, Daddy, please just…please…”

His chin lifts, lids flickering over inky eyes. “Ah,” he clips, still holding you up on his cock, “no begging. Not ‘til you call.”

And he drops his hips, holding you off his length as you shakily stand. He helps tug your skirt back into place, watches as you lean over him to reach for the phone.

You do your best to sound annoyed, covering the scratch marks of desperation in your voice when you ask, “What’s the number?”

Joel reads it out, standing up, too, and you rest your elbows on the desk, cracking your neck.

Some chipper voice answers the phone, belting down the line to thank you for your call and ask what he can do for you today. He’s too fucking enthusiastic, too distracting, and only when he pauses to check the system for any free tables do you notice the weight at your ass.

The cold of his belt buckle kissing the underside of your thigh, the peeling of your skirt up, up, up. Hands massaging your ass cheeks; then one cupping between your legs to nudge your clit gently.

You jolt forward, a warped sound crying from your lips. The guy says, Pardon me, ma’am? and you stutter your way through a sentence in reply as Joel hooks your panties to the side.

“We’ve got…let’s see…” The host hums some stupid fucking tune, clicks his tongue against his teeth while you tug on the phone cord – unable to stop from stealing a glance over your shoulder and yet unwilling to give your boss the satisfaction of knowing you’re watching.

Joel pulls the belt free from its loops, drops it to the seat of his chair with a thud, and lines up right behind you.

You cover the microphone. “This what you wanted?” you hiss.

He hums. “You’re the one who bent over, darlin’.”

“Asshole.”

“Way to speak to your boss,” he grumbles, and shoves in.

“Christ,” you yelp, and the host pauses again.

“Um…We have one o’clock?” he asks, keyboard clicking in the background.

Your voice catches, body bouncing against the desk rhythmically. The wooden edge shunts roughly against your pelvis, bruises likely blooming already with the rate Joel’s going.

He bends forward, his right ear lining with the phone. “Say again?” he whispers.

“One,” you repeat.

Joel shakes his head. “Too soon. Ain’t hungry yet.”

“It’s twelve,” you mutter, teeth gritted, “you might be hungry in an hour.”

“Hm,” he considers, leaning back upright. “Maybe, long as I keep myself busy.”

He thrusts forward again, pulling you by the waist until you’re flush against his chest. His hands slip around to cup your breasts, squeezing and pinching and holding you still.

“Anything – later?” you ask down the line, switching the phone to the opposite ear to let Joel in at your neck. His teeth graze the skin, sharp pain when the blood vessels splatter streaks of crimson.

The host offers up a table at two-fifteen, which Joel seems to like the sound of, given the moan he lets free when you ask.

“Two-fifteen’s good,” you say, dropping the phone to the desk when your boss’s hand sneaks around your hip. “Joel,” you gasp, holding your voice at as low a volume as you can, “Joel, I swear to – Jesus Christ, you’re gonna –”

He’s laughing, playing with your clit as he fucks you, lips buried into the crook of your shoulder. “You my good girl?” he asks, bending your bodies forward. “Then book the goddamn table.”

“Ma’am?” the host’s asking, when you lift the phone to your ear again. “You still there?”

“Still – still here,” you breathe, flattening the whine in your voice. Joel’s starting to falter, starting to lose his rhythm. You can feel yourself beginning to tighten around him, give in to the pressure between your hips.

“What’s the name, ma’am?”

“Huh?”

Joel laughs, lips against your ear again. “Tell ‘im, pretty girl. Tell him who your daddy is.”

“My – fuck – M-Miller,” you reply, knees buckling. “Miller.”

“Alright, a table for two for…Miller…And that’s M-I-L-L–”

“–E-R, yep. Miller.”

“Good girl,” Joel pants against your temple, bristles of his beard grazing your cheek. He wraps one arm tight around your waist, clamping you against his body, the other still toying with your clit. Hips snapping roughly into yours, he whispers sharp in your ear, “I’m gonna come, darlin’, gonna fill you up real good, alright?”

“Can you wai–?”

“Alright, that’s you booked in, ma’am! We can’t wait to –”

“Great,” you choke back, falling forward with Joel at your back, “thanks. Thank you, we’ll see you – see you –”

Joel reaches over your shoulder and jams a thumb into the hook of the phone. “Fuck,” he groans, holding you steady as his cock throbs and a wet heat floods somewhere deep inside you.

The handset slips from your grasp, clattering against the desk as your body falls limp, your pussy jolting around him. His hands are the only thing keeping you steady, keeping you from melting into a puddle at his feet. A love-drunk sigh, the word Daddy spilling out into the room – the last thing before your breath cuts and he’s dragging you back down into the chair with him again.

Joel sinks back into the leather, sighing as he settles you again in his broad lap. He kisses you until you stir – lips soft against your temple, your cheek, your neck, to bring you back to him. His cock’s still stiff, half-limp and shining at the bottom of his stomach.

“’s a good girl,” he coos, letting you collapse against his chest.

Your cunt pulses, clenching around nothing; Joel’s come and yours trickling into your underwear.

“I hate you,” you whisper, playing with his hands.

“I know,” he mumbles into your skull, “bad boss.”

You breathe a laugh. “Who’s the client?”

“Mm,” Joel muses, adjusting in the chair, “nobody. Canceled on me last minute.”

He grins when you snap upright, head cocking. “Are you fucking kidding me? You just put me through all that for no goddamn reason?”

“Naw,” he protests, frowning, “I thought the two of us could go.”

There’s a softness to his face which dampens the fire in your belly as quickly as it ignited. Something genuine, something honest. You know him well enough by now to tell when he’s asking something of you, and not expecting it.

You feel your cheeks heat. “To lunch? Together?”

He shrugs. “Why the hell not? We’re going to Paris together.”

You blink at him, considering it. He’s not fucking wrong, is he? That same fire strikes again – only, a little further north, a little harder to control. It tickles your lungs, shaking the breath as you suck it in. You cover yourself with a blunt, “Martha’s gonna be pissed,” laced through as easy-going a sigh as you can manage.

Joel laughs, nodding. “I am sure she’ll get over it. Quiet office for the afternoon. Paradise.”

You smile, looking down at your hands clasped around one of his. You give his knuckles a small squeeze, and mutter, “You’re paying, Miller. And I’m ordering big.”

If not for the dark beard on his cheeks, and the sudden protective movement of his hand over them – if not for the fact that you’ve never in all your time here seen it happen…you’d swear the man was blushing.

“Okay,” Joel says, cheeks lifting. “Anything you want.”

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Rich!SoftDom!Joel x F!AFAB!sub! Reader Pt 2 - Celebrating You

Warnings: General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific Warnings: Mentions of former Sex Work, Drinking, Alcohol, soft!dom Joel, soft Sub/Dom dynamics, Power imbalance (if you really squint), implied age gap but it’s not really important - reader could be any(obviously legal) age, No descriptions of Reader, No Use of Y/N, Reader is former SWorker and an app developer, Spanking, sub/dom punishment (it’s modest), PiV sex (protected), oral sex F!Receiving, public sex/voyeurism (modest), Jealous Joel.

Let me know if I missed anything!

7k+ Words 😅

Part one here: AO3 here:

Summary: You’re up for an award for work, you hate these kinds of things but you had to do it. What you find waiting for you makes it worth your while.

You look at yourself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror next to the large king-size bed of the hotel room. You smooth down the backless, emerald green, halter-neck dress with the scandalous neckline that showed off the valley between your breasts. Your gold closed toed heels were higher than you’d usually wear, but Jenna had picked the outfit for you, so you had no choice but to accept your fate. You pick up your gold clutch purse and take a few calming breaths before checking you had the essentials.

Purse, phone, room keycard, lipstick.

You note the contents of your purse before picking up your black double-breasted coat, draping it over your arm striding out of the door as confidently as possible. You wobble slightly in the heels but recover quickly as you shut the door behind you.

You ride the elevator down to the ballroom and feel the nerves building in your chest, anxiety sitting on your diaphragm like a lead weight. But you tilt you head up high as you stride out onto the marble floor of the foyer. You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you notice the stares and quiet whispers from people around you as you head towards the open doors of the ballroom. A banner over the door reads Innovating the Innovative: Celebrating socially conscious app development.

Your name is called as soon as you cross the threshold and your new boss, Eileen, waves you over to her table close to the stage, the tables were filling up rapidly and you feel the lurch of dread at all the people, you swallow harshly, you were going to be up there, on stage, with so many eyes on you. Eileen pulls you into a tight hug as you reach the table.

“Nervous?” She asks as you sit down together. She’s in a sleek black bodycon with a slit in the thigh to show off her smooth alabaster legs. Her long blonde hair is styled up and you can’t help but check her out. Most of your interactions had been by video call since you started at the new job so it’s nice to really get a feel for the kind of person she is.

“Are you kidding? Of course I am.” You say with a laugh as you scan around the mostly empty table. You note the two place cards to your right, Ellie Miller, Joel Miller. You don’t recognise the names immediately but they had to be important if they were sat with you and the boss.

Joel.

You say the name in your head, fond memories of a hotel not too dissimilar to this fill your mind. A pang of longing tugs at your chest at the lost opportunity. You had forgotten to give him your number, and by the time Jenna reached out again you were too busy to find time.

“You’ll do fine, you got a speech prepared?” She asks, snapping you out of your daydream, as she heralds a waiter over to you to take drinks orders.

“Of course, it’s all up here,” You tap your temple and Eileen rolls her eyes at you, “Who’ve we got joining us tonight?” You ask, pointing to the four unoccupied seats around the table.

“Oh it’s just the Chairman of the board, his brother, and his two daughters.” Eileen says noncommittally and your eyes go wide in panic. She picks up on it immediately and places a warm hand on your knee.

“Don’t worry they never turn up to these things, too busy for these kinds of dog-and-pony shows.” She says with a smile and you feel the tension ease. You order a bottle of champagne for the table as the final seats begin to fill.

“I’m just going to step out for some air, I’ll be back before appetisers are served.” You say before scurrying off through the hotel and onto the streets of LA. You walk a few steps away from the entrance before sitting down on an empty bench.

You sit for a while, watching people pass you by, some giving you wide-eyed stares that both make you feel great and even more nervous all at the same time. You look at your phone for the time and reluctantly head back inside, your mind abuzz as you somehow manage not to trip up the steps to the foyer.

Fucking heels, way too tall.

You approach the table to see three of the empty seats now filled, a handsome man in his forties with a pristine, white, open collared shirt rolled up to the elbows. His long hair is tied back in a loose ponytail. Two women sit next to him, the closest to him has dark hair styled in tight braids, gold beads placed at careful intervals to accentuate her gold sequinned dress. The other woman is maybe five years her junior, her hair is loose around her shoulders. She’s wearing a fuchsia pink suit and black shirt, you see bright white Doc Martens peaking out from under the tablecloth.

You take your seat gingerly, smiling around the table as three pairs of eyes lock onto you.

“Hi I’m,” You give your name and the man speaks first.

“I’m Tommy, nice to meet you honey.” Tommy says with a nod. His Texan accent is silky smooth and you feel the heat flash across your cheeks at the pet name.

“I’m Sarah, and this is my little sister Ellie.” She says with a teasing smile and Ellie huffs, cheeks going bright red.

“I’m not a kid anymore Sarah.” She grumbles but the smile on her lips betrays the laughter at some kind of in-joke you aren’t privy to.

“Nice to meet you all.” You say softly, taking a sip of your champagne as your mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Sorry I’m late girls, got caught up with a client, glad Uncle Tommy could get you here in one piece, and on time.” You freeze, your stomach fluttering as you realise you know that voice. You don’t turn as he sits down, praying you’re wrong, that it’s another gravelly-voiced Texan named Joel and not your Joel, it can’t be.

It is.

Your Joel sits in the seat next to you, flicking the place card playfully at his youngest daughter who catches it with ease. He still hasn’t noticed you, his full attention on his girls. His hair is slicked back, thick rimmed glasses rest on the bridge of his strong nose. His black suit fits him perfectly, the high collared shirt and no tie suited him down to the ground. His facial hair is trimmed, still patchy, still splintered with silver. Still as handsome as you remember. You rub your knees together in frustration as you feel arousal sting at the base of your spine. You look away, draining the last of your champagne before focusing on pouring another glass.

“Took my seat.” He says with an exaggerated sigh as he turns to look at you. You see his warm brown eyes go wide out of the corner of your eye and you know you can’t keep avoiding looking at him forever. You slowly turn with a fake smile plastered on your face as you try not to react to the look on his face. He’s just as surprised to see you as you are him.

It’s been over a year since he fucked you senseless in a hotel room for an obscene amount of money. A whole year since you had anywhere near as much fun with a guy, in bed or out. But you’d gotten this job soon after, and as appealing as he was, you’d turned down his many attempts to spend another night with him. Much to Jenna’s disappointment.

It was a one time thing, I needed the money, it was a one time thing.

But you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t think about that night often, the mind-blowing sex, the post-sex cuddling, the ease at which you had just enjoyed each other’s company in that lavish hotel room. It was a perfect fantasy, and that’s all it could ever be, all it would ever be.

“Hey.” Is all he says as his eyes wander over your body, as if trying to believe that you’re really here.

“Hey I’m,” You give your name as you hold your hand out to shake.

“Joel, Joel Miller.” He says as his hand grasps yours. The familiar rough, well worked skin is delightful on your palm. His large hand engulfs yours and you have to suppress a whine as he grips you tightly.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You eek out and you see his moustache twitch at the waver in your voice.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He says with a wicked grin, which only sends heat driving to your core. At that moment waiters arrive to serve starters and you’re thankful for the distraction, but you suddenly don’t have an appetite. You listen to Eileen fawn over Joel, doing the corporate networking dance of overly praising him, whilst undervaluing herself. He plays along, but all the time he’s stealing glances at you, looking away when you caught him.

Tommy catches your gaze from across the table and gives you a wink. You feel the heat spread across your cheekbones at the action and you feel Joel stiffen next to you. Tommy’s gaze flicks to him and he rolls his eyes before looking back down at his soup, a knowing smile plastered on his face now.

The rest of the dinner goes on without incident and as the desert plates are being cleared you make your excuses and head to the toilet. The bathroom is unisex, with individual stalls lining the wall. You head to the furthest one as you hear the main door open and shut behind you. You don’t look, not thinking about anything or anyone else as you try to find a quiet space to freak out in private.

Strong hands grip your waist as you reach for the latch, you yelp in surprise as you’re spun around. You get ready to scream or cuss out your assailant when you see those soft, chocolate brown eyes magnified by the lenses framing his face. Joel looks at you with a hunger that makes your toes curl painfully in your tight heels. You feel yourself being drawn to him, those soft lips framed beautifully by his moustache.

“Fuck, and I thought you looked good in jeans and sneakers.” He rumbles, his thumbs digging into your hips with force enough to bruise.

“Joel what are you doing?” You gasp, your heart in your throat as you try to reign in the desire to pull him into a stall and let him fuck you against the door.

“Sorry, that was really inappropriate of me.” Joel says as you watch a blush creep over his face as he lets go of you. He steps back and looks bashful, a picture of the day you opened the door to him all that time ago.

“You never did know when to quit, huh?” You say, scraping your mind for an adequate quote, but it’s obscure so you’re not sure if he’ll get it. But the corner of his mouth twitches and you feel the rush of excitement stir in your chest.

“Damned good to see ya, Dutch.” He responds, completing the Predator quote without hesitation.

“Joel I-,” You start but he presses a firm finger to your lips, the sensation is maddening. You want to open your lips and take the digit into your mouth, suck on it and make him groan. You want him as much as you did a year ago, maybe more.

“It’s ok, I get it, you clearly got back on your feet, don’t need creepy old men like me to pay your rent.” He says, suddenly looking small in his expensive suit as he looks shyly at you through his thick glasses. Just like the way he looked at you on the bed.

“You’re not old and that’s not why, well, yes. I did get this job and they pay’s great,” You say with a meek smile, “I like you Joel, I had an amazing night with you and I just felt weird about taking money from you again when I’d have done it for free.” You say, feeling small and foolish as you admit so much to a man you barely know. You’re regretting more than ever not giving him your number.

“I see.” Is all Joel can say as he looks you up and down, clearly mulling something over behind those soft brown eyes. You feel anxiety gnawing at you as you realise Eileen could come looking for you any second. You had to make a decision, fast.

You step forward, hands trembling slightly as you cup his face, his facial hair tickles your thumbs as you rub soothingly against his jaw. You look into Joel’s eyes and watch as his pupils dilate, his tongue darts over his bottom lip and all restraint goes out of the window as you remember how it felt to have that very same tongue buried in your wet, needy cunt.

You both move in tandem, Joel’s hands fly to your hips as you pull him backwards into the stall, your lips crashing together with desperation. Your teeth bump together with a soft click and you both laugh as Joel turns to latch the door behind you. You’re both panting as you stand in the cubicle, the sink and toilet leaving very little room for your bodies.

“Sure you want to do this?” Joel asks softly, as he hesitates to touch you, his hands hovering over your hips.

“Buy me breakfast and it’s a deal.” You say breathily as you wrap your fingers around his wrists, guiding them to your hips. He pulls your hips against his slowly, sliding his hands around to cup your ass through your dress.

“Deal.” He growls as he pins you against the wall, hands sliding down under the hem of your dress as he kisses you. His tongue forcing its way into your mouth as you whimper, his rough fingertips brushing against your thighs as he tracks them up to the waistband of your panties. You were grateful you decided to wear something sexy, a red lace thong and matching strapless push up bra.

“Fuck sweetheart, I don’t have a condom.” He sighs as he presses his forehead against yours, you stifle a laugh. His voice is ragged, desperate, matching the coursing need rushing through you as every touch, every press of his body against yours reminds you of what you’d been missing.

“Neither do I, didn’t intend to get laid tonight.” You laugh, loving the way he sounds, just as frustrated and whiny as you do, as he tries to restrain himself.

“I could make a supplies run, but we don’t have time.” He grumbles but his hands continue to inch up your thighs.

“I trust you Joel.” You whimper but he just shakes his head.

“No chance, I want to do this properly sweetheart, condoms until I get you a copy of a health screening,” He says firmly and the conviction to give you full and clear consent makes you even more desperate for him, “But I’m not leaving this bathroom without taking care of you.” He says as he kisses the corner of your mouth, his lips sucking and nipping at the skin of your jaw. You keen under him arching up against his hard cock, his tight suit pants doing nothing to disguise how hard, and how large he is.

“Joel they’re going to come looking for me, I’m up for an award.” You whine as he sucks firmly on your neck, not hard enough to leave marks but hard enough to elicit desperate breathy whimpers from you.

“Best come quickly for me then sweetheart.” His voice is thick with desire, his hands bunching up the skirt of your dress as he sinks to his knees.

“Joel the floor’s dirty don’t-!” You begin to protest but you’re cut off by the press of Joel’s hot mouth against your clothed cunt. The sensation is obscenely hot as he mouths gently against your clit through the fabric. You groan and roll your hips up into his eager mouth.

“Shh, gotta be quiet.” He breathes against your thigh as he rolls your panties down, he lifts up your left ankle to slip your panties off, followed by your right. He tucks them into the front pocket of his suit before looking up at you, his glasses steaming up as he grins at you. You glide your fingers along his jaw with your right hand, your left bracing against the sink.

“I like you in glasses.” You say softly, his big brown eyes magnified behind the prescription lenses. He turns his head into your palm and the brush of his patchy facial hair followed by the press of his hot, plush lips against your skin makes you shudder, your pussy clenching around nothing as you start to feel incredibly needy. He grips the crook of your knee and guides your thigh over his shoulder, opening you wider for him and you oblige, shifting your weight against the sink to keep yourself upright.

“I like you in green, and red.” He says as he nuzzles against your palm, you feel the tips of your ears go hot as you rub your thumb along his jaw. He kisses up your thigh slowly, the sound of the main bathroom door barely registering as he licks slowly up the seam of your folds, sucking slowly on your clit as he flattens his tongue against it, the stimulation of his coarse moustache electric on your sensitive skin. He pulls back, glasses fully steamed up as he laughs, your arousal coating his lips.

“Gotta take these off.” He explains as he slips them into his jacket pocket, next to your thong. You nod, not trusting your own voice. Joel’s mouth finds your tight, aching hole, swiping his tongue up to your clit and back down again, burying his tongue inside you.

“Fuck Joel, make me feel so good.” You whine, the familiar warmth spreading from your spine to your core as you feel your orgasm building. You bite your lip and pull Joel in closer, guiding his mouth to your clit as you rake your fingernails through the patchy facial hair on his jaw. He notches a thick finger at your entrance and you have to clamp your hand over your mouth as you moan at the slow press of his thick digit against your walls.

You hear your name called from the room beyond the door and Eileen’s voice snaps your attention away from Joel for a brief second. Your eyes go wide and you look down to see Joel’s smile before he covers your clit with his mouth, swirling his thick tongue around it with blinding pressure as you bite down on the flesh of your palm. A knock on the door has Joel’s second finger hesitate as he looks up at you with amusement sparkling in his lust-blown eyes.

“Occupied.” He grunts as his second finger enters you. You exhale violently through your nostrils as you try not to scream at the knee-weakening stretch, the fullness of his two fingers inside you is torturous. Your fingers on the edge of the sink are cramping from holding on so hard, your knuckles white as you feel your walls clench hard around him. The sound of Eileen’s startled apology and the click of her heels on the tile have you letting out a shaky breath.

“Joel you’re a bad man.” You pant, removing your hand from your mouth, the semi-circle imprint of your teeth embarrassingly deep as you examine it. He sees and immediately takes your hand to press a soft kiss to either side of the heel of your palm.

“I know, but you love it,” He winks at you and you clench around his thick fingers as the combination of tenderness and confidence sends heat rushing through you, electrifying your skin, you’re so close, you can feel it, “But later you can be as loud as you want sweetheart, want to hear you.” He growls before latching back onto your clit, flicking aggressive strokes against your clit as he pumps his fingers into you, curling them slightly to hit your g-spot. Your head falls back as you come hard around Joel’s fingers, he keeps thrusting into you, knuckles slapping flush against you until you still around him.

“Fuck, I missed your pretty little cunt.” He breathes against your thigh before removing his fingers. He pops them in his mouth and groans, sucking your arousal greedily before gently removing your thigh from his shoulder. You lean back against the tiled wall, the thrum of your orgasm making you feel lofty, weightless, as you bask in the afterglow.

“Missed those skilful fingers and doting mouth Joel.” You retort as you run a hand over your face, careful not to smudge your makeup. Joel gets up from his knees with a soft groan, followed by a sharp pop. You wince at the sound, but Joel straightens with a playful grimace on his face.

“Happens all the time, knees not what they used to be.” He shrugs and you feel a smile ghost your lips as you hold your hand out for your panties. Joel grins as he fishes them out only to tuck them into the internal pocket of his jacket. You bite your lip playfully at the sight of it.

“Make a habit of eating out women in bathroom stalls and stealing their panties?” You tease and you see the blush creep up his strong neck, spreading to his cheeks as he wipes his glasses on his suit jacket.

“Never, but the moment I realised it was you…” He pauses, as if unsure if he should continue.

“Tell me.” You say softly, taking the glasses from his hands, slowly placing them back to rest on his strong nose. The gesture is intimate, unnecessary, but you wanted to put him at ease, you want him to know you didn’t regret this. There was also something about Joel, form the moment you met him, that made you want to be gentle with him, tender with him.

“I just didn’t think I’d see you again, and ever since you fell asleep with your head in my lap, watching that shitty Nick Cage movie, I’ve wanted more. I just didn’t know how to ask, how to contact you without...” He shrugs, his face clouded with doubt and regret.

“Hey, don’t get caught up in the what if’s now,” You say as you cup his jaw with both hands, tilting his face to make him look at you, “We can talk about the specifics later, but if you want, I’ll be in my room once I can disentangle myself from this party, we’ve got lost time to make up for.” You say grabbing some paper towels to clean up the mess between your legs before straightening you dress in the mirror. You fix your makeup and turn to Joel one last time.

“I do really need to get out there,” You say with genuine regret in your voice, you’d much rather take Joel upstairs and spend the rest of the night with him, under him, over him, but you had shit to do, “Clean yourself up Mr Miller, you’ve got something on your chin.” You lean in as you speak, whispering in his ear for the last bit before hurrying out of the stall. You hear him exhale loudly before laughing softly to himself as you close the door behind you.

*

You make it through your speech with relative ease, eliciting a few chuckles from the crowd. You notice Joel taking his place a respectable time after you had started speaking and your smile finally felt genuine. You take your place back at the table, the cut glass award placed triumphantly in front of you as you catch a sly smile from Tommy. You feel your face flush with heat as you look away.

“You did great up there,” Eileen says as you order another bottle of champagne for the table, you’d only managed to get a few sips of your second glass before colliding with Joel in the toilets, “You have to stick around for the networking, at least for a bit.” She pleads, as if knowing you were going to rabbit as soon as you got the chance. You feel Joel’s knee bump against yours and try not to react and you answer.

“Alright, but I am really tired, I’ll stay as long as I can manage.” You say as you apply pressure back against Joel’s knee.

“So, what was your award actually for?” Ellie asks and you turn to look at the young woman with an amused smile. She looks nothing like Joel you realise, but there’s a closeness to them that speaks to years of love, familiarity.

“Truthfully?” You say, noticing the way Sarah was looking at you with suspicion, “I have no clue, but I know it’s to do with an app I developed.”

“You developed your own app?” Ellie says with bright eyes, her initially scornful tone now alight with intrigue.

“Yup, there’s been a woeful lack of development around safeguarding solo workers, like care workers, social workers, I’ve even had interest in developing something for police officers and other emergency service workers.” You explain and you even see Sarah’s eyebrows go up in surprise. You tactfully leave out sex workers, because Eileen didn’t know about that side of it and you want to keep it that way.

“So how does it work?” Ellie asks, leaning around Joel as he leans back to let you talk over him.

“I can’t go into the details, or Eileen will have to kill me.” You say with as laugh and you hear Eileen huff behind you but she’s quickly distracted by Tommy complimenting her dress.

“Alright but what does it do?” Sarah asks this time, her deep brown eyes so alike her father’s as you regard her carefully.

“I’ve created a system that allows for solo workers to have points of contact, emergency calling features, schedules and tracking features that work on an encrypted network so that locations shared are kept out of external channels.” You explain, your words getting away with you as you realise the whole table is listening to you in awe. You bristle under the attention as you feel Joel’s large hand rest on your knee. You expect it to send your pulse spiking but the gentleness of it serves to calm you down instead.

“That’s actually really smart, and it’ll save lives.” Sarah says slowly, sipping from her glass as she looks at you. There’s something behind her look that you can’t quite read but you try not to linger on it.

“So what do you two do, I guess you’re just out of college Ellie?” You ask, turning the attention away from you. Ellie takes over with gusto and you lean a little too close to Joel over the table but you don’t thin anyone notices, anyone but Joel, his grip tightens on your knee and you trap it between your knees gently. The rest of the night is filled with laughter, stolen touches, and the hot thrumming in your veins that grows harder to ignore with every passing second.

*

The hotel door clicks behind you as you take a shuddering breath, you’re abuzz with alcohol, adrenaline, and desire as you turn on the lights and take of your shoes, the relief you feel is immense. You rub your feet aggressively to try and get the sensation back in your toes.

The lavish room reminds you of the room you shared with Joel all those months ago. The bedsheets are darker, the bathroom a little smaller, but it was close enough. You can’t decide if you should wait by the door or sit down on the bed, you opt for the bed, nervous energy making you twitch as you fiddle with the hem of your dress.

The soft knock on the door has you hurrying to the door, you peek through the peep hole and see him, you don’t waste a single second. You open the door and Joel moves to you like gravity drawing him into your orbit. His mouth slots over yours with a desperate moan as you fists your hands in his hair, no-longer caring about messing it up. The door closes with a slam as he kicks it closed, hoisting you up around his waist. You’re a mess of hot, open mouthed kisses, tongues sliding over one another as Joel stalks to the bed.

He presses you down into the bed, the smell of his cologne, sweat, and whisky blending perfectly in your mind as you arch up into him. You whimper as he licks into your mouth, his mouth devouring you like a man starved. His hands roam your body as you frantically paw at his open jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. It falls to the floor behind him softly and you groan as you force yourself to break the kiss.

“You get a condom?” You ask as you come up for air, your eyes fluttering open to the most handsome face you’d ever seen. Joel’s dark eyes are framed by his glasses, already steaming up as you reach for them gently. He smiles down at you as you pluck them from the bridge of his nose. You hold them to your chest gently, careful not to touch the lenses.

“‘Course, no way was I going to miss out on burying myself in that sweet cunt of yours.” He growls, as he tries to take the glasses back from you. You giggle as you hold them above your head, straining to keep them out of his reach.

“Show me how much you want it.” You taunt him, wrapping your thighs around his waist, anchoring him in place as he tries to reach for his glasses. You feel the hard press of his length against your core as your dress bunches up around your thighs. You whine at the friction of his clothed cock against your bare mound.

“Trying to make me beg sweetheart?” Joel looks to the glasses for a moment before back down to where your bodies meet. He sucks in a sharp breath as he sees his tented crotch grinding against your slick folds.

“I don’t try Joel, trying implies I’m going to fail.” You purr, bucking your hips to grind against him and he snarls at the sensation. You tremble as you feel yourself getting close, the white-hot burn of arousal striking forks of lightning up your spine. But you hold on, watching Joel’s jaw go slack as he battles with his own self-control.

“So that submission last time, just playing the role for me?” He grumbles but you don’t sense any real judgement in his tone. He’s just baiting you right back, you grin mischievously up at him.

“Oh no that was all real, I’m just a bit of a brat.” You say before biting down hard on your lip and fluttering your eyelashes at him. Joel’s eyes are near-black as his pupils dilate, a dark smile on his lips as his moustache twitches up.

“That so?” He rumbles as he kneels between your thighs, hands on your hips as he pushes you into the middle of the bed, he steps back and takes off his shirt slowly popping the buttons one by one. You move to get up to help but he shoots you a chastising look, cocking his head as his hands still on the button just above his belly-button. You flop back down onto the bed and he smiles.

“Good girl.” He says as he unfastens the last two buttons, baring his soft belly, his broad chest and thick, muscular arms to you as he runs one hand through his hair. The thumb of the other hand is tucked into the waistband of his slacks. You try not to fidget under his gaze, but the way he looks, shirtless, broad, domineering above you at the edge of the bed has you itching with desire. Every inch of you longs for his touch.

“Dress and bra off.” He orders, his voice deep, authoritative. You reach up to untie the clasp of your halter neck, the ribbons of silky fabric fan out around your head as you pull it down over your strapless bra. Joel hums as the swell of your lace covered tits comes into view.

“So pretty in red.” He groans as the hand that was on his waistband moves to palm his crotch through his slacks, he exhales softly as it brings him a small amount of relief from the desperate need you knew was building inside him.

“Joel.” You whine breathlessly, the tension too much as you shimmy the dress over your hips. Joel tugs the fabric away and tosses it off to the side before looking at your bra pointedly.

“Forgetting something sweetheart?” He asks, eyes dark as he kneels back down on the bed. You arch up off the bed, unclasping your bra with both hands before throwing it off the bed.

“Better.” Joel growls as he lowers his head in line with your glistening pussy, he hums softly as he presses soft kisses to the inside of your thigh, his hot breath fanning against your core and you squirm, you can’t help but clamp your thighs around his broad shoulders and his lips still. You can feel his lips turn up in a smile as his facial hair rubs against your soft, sensitive skin. The anticipation makes you whimper as you wait for his response.

“You’re making it so hard for me not to punish you sweetheart with all these little acts of disobedience,” He mutters as he loops his large hands under your knees, “You going to behave or am I just going to have to make you?”

“I’ll behave, I promise.” You whimper, trying to keep still as his threatening words make you feel like you could explode if he didn’t touch you.

“Last chance,” He warns before leaning in, folding your legs over his shoulders as he palms your ass cheeks with his large, calloused hands, lifting you up slightly to meet him. His mouth hovers over your clit, his hot breath unbearable as you keep yourself still. You tremble at the effort and you hear the soft chuckle right as Joel latches his mouth onto your clit.

“Joel, fuck yes, thank you.” You slur as he laves gently at your clit, dipping down through your folds as he gathers your arousal on his tongue. He groans, a rough, guttural sound as he sucks on your clit, combined with those soft, teasing strokes of his thick tongue he pushes you over the edge. You cry out his name as you clench around nothing, the pleasure rocking through you like a storm, building and crashing with every continued swirl of Joel’s tongue on your overstimulated clit.

“Such a needy thing,” He says softly as he licks a long stripe from your twitching hole up to your clit, sending almost painful jolts of pleasure through your body as you cry out in overstimulation, “On your hands and knees, come on you can do it.” He croons softly as he stands. You hear the tear of foil and you look up to see Joel, bare above you as he rolls down the condom over his thick length.

You’re boneless, limbs heavy from the second orgasm of the night, exhausted from the long day, but you comply. You flop over sloppily as you force yourself into position, you stick your ass out for extra effect. Joel’s large hands fall to your hips, helping you stay up as he lines up behind you, the cool press of the condom against your core has you shuddering in anticipation.

“So fucking eager,” He says softly, his right hand smoothing over the curve of your ass before a he squeezes gently, “I think you deserve a little bit of punishment for earlier, don’t you?” He asks as he swipes his cock through your folds.

“Yes.” You breathe and try not to move as he notches the fat head of his cock in your desperate entrance.

“Let me know if I go too hard, don’t wanna hurt you sweetheart ok?” The softness returns to Joel’s voice and your heart clenches with emotion as you remember just how wonderful he was last time.

“I will.” You squeak and the moment you consent his hand cracks down on your right cheek, the sharp burn of the spank made you weak. Pleasure and pain course through you like a drug, driving heat straight back to your overstimulated cunt. You cry out, head thrown back as you try not to push back, even if it’s all you want. All you can think about is how much you want him to just fuck into you.

“Fuck you’re so pretty,” Joel says, his voice strained as you feel him holding back, “Such a pretty ass.” He croons as he soothes the already reddening skin, the sensation makes your toes curl as his tender, calloused hands take some of the sting out of the blow. Another crack of his hand comes down on the other cheek as he nudges the tip forward into you. A strangled moan escapes you as the stretch of your walls combined with the force of the spank hit you at the same time. You’re panting and whimpering as you fist your hands into the sheets.

“There we go,” He says softy, kneading your ass with both hands, helping you work through the modest amount of pain, “On your back sweetheart, I want to see your pretty little face when I fill you up.”

You oblige eagerly, desire spurring your tired body on as you flip over, thighs spread as you look up at Joel. His eyes are dark with desire but his smile is sweet, caring as he kneels down between your legs, lining himself up with one hand as he strokes the snide of your knew with the other.

“You ready?” He asks softly, his thumb brushing back and fore on your sensitive skin as his tip presses into you slowly.

“Please Joel, fuck me, I can’t take it any more.” You whine, already bucking your hips up to meet him. He smirks and presses into you slowly, stretching you around him as he moans your name. His hands fall to your hips as he leans down, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your lips.

“Even with a condom on your pussy feels so damn good,” He breathes against your lips, “I’m so glad I decided to come to this event.” He says as he rolls his hips into you gently, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you tremble, your cunt fluttering around him as you feel another orgasm building.

“I’m glad you did too, missed you Joel, wish I’d taken your number.” You say in between desperate pants, the fullness of Joel inside you driving coherent thought from your mind.

“Well, I’ll make sure we exchange numbers this time, no way am I waiting another year.” He chuckles as he pulls almost all the way out, his nose pressed against yours as he ruts back into you with a sharp snap of his hips. You arch up into him as he picks up the pace, his mouth swallowing your moans as he dips his tongue into yours.

“Joel?” You ask as you both come up for air, Joel’s eyes are hazy as he continues his unrelenting rhythm, fucking you down into the mattress so hard you almost forget what you were going to ask.

“What is it baby what do you need?” He asks as he slows a little, holding back to let you think.

“Can I touch myself?” You ask and Joel groans as he snaps his hips hard, filling you to the hilt as you whine.

“Fuck you’re so hot when you ask permission,” He laughs softly as he kisses the corner of your mouth, “Of course, I’m close baby so want to feel you before I do.”

“Thank you.” You say as you snake your hand down to your clit, you’re so wet with your own slick that you match Joel’s maddening thrusts with hurried circles around your swollen, oversensitive bud. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you feel yourself getting close. You feel yourself teetering on the precipice and you move your hands to Joel’s shoulders, digging your nails into his muscular form as you tip over the edge.

“Joel- Joel, I’-, I-!” You wail as his brutal thrusts finish you off.

Joel’s thrusts falter and as you clench around him, your mind going blank, euphoria pulsing through you in bursts of overstimulated aftershocks. Joel groans as he fucks down into you twice more, a tight groan escaping his lips as his brow knits together.

His body shudders and stills inside you, his dark eyes blissful as he leans down to kiss you. Your lips fit together perfectly, your tongue intertwining with his as you pull him down to cover you with his body. Your nails scrape down his back and he shudders, pulling out of you with a sharp exhale.

You lie together, Joel’s head tucked under your chin as you come down together, a warm, welcome buzz floating around your chest as you bask in the tenderness of the moment.

“Going to dump this in the trash.” Joel says as he rolls off you and removes the condom, tying the end in a knot before making his way to the bathroom. His knee pops as he straightens up and you can’t help but giggle. He looks at you over his shoulder with a sly smile painted on his plush lips. You roll out of bed reluctantly to clean up. You dance around one another tentatively as you share the space in the bathroom.

It’s a wordless dance of gentle touches, shy looks, and turned heads as you take turns cleaning up before you’re finally wrapped up in bed, leaning back against the headboard, Joel’s arm around you as you lean into his warm body. The television is on, some old Western playing quietly in the background but neither of you are really watching it.

“You want to get dinner tomorrow night?” You ask gently as you trace spirals over the small dusting of hair on Joel’s chest.

“What about breakfast?” He asks, head pressed into your hair as he places a soft kiss to the top of your head. He inhales softly and you shudder pleasantly at the sensation.

“I mean, that was already a done deal,” You say with a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, “I mean like a date?” You wince as you hear how lame it sounds but you had to, you were already way too invested to stop whatever this was between you now.

“I’d like that, it’s a date.” He hums as he pulls you in tighter against him.

“It’s a date.” You say as you close your eyes, listening to the thrumming of Joel’s heartbeat as you settle into the warmth of his embrace.

Let me know what you thought! I had a lot of fun writing this but stumbled here and there, I hope I stuck the landing! Please leave comments, likes and reblogs if you enjoyed it!

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Tag List: @yvonneeeee @notsosecretspy @jadealicious06 @famouslyanonymous @harriedandharassed @casa-boiardi

[ao3littlelesshuman]

OK IT’S STILL OCTOBER 5TH IN MY TIME ZONE.

Below: snippet of my still mostly abstract AU of starving musician/juice artist Joonas and (implicitly unfaithful) sugardaddy producer moneybags Mattson. Implied Joonas/Aleksi and referenced Aleksi/Robin 👀👀👀

🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶

Joonas lingers by the studio doors, smoking while everyone else dawdles inside chit chatting and collecting gear. He’s enjoying that characteristic briskness of an early fall evening; not far enough along in the season that he thought to grab a jacket this morning and temperate enough that the cigarette satisfies his craving for warmth. 

He’s on the last dregs when Tommi emerges the front door, long strides carrying him easily towards his van in the parking lot. “Night,” he calls over a shoulder at Joonas.

“Night, Tommi,” Joonas responds, laughing a little as Olli and Niko both clamber out after Tommi to catch a ride with him. 

Joonas is just stubbing out the smoke when Aleksi finally emerges, offering a tired smile. “You need a ride?”

“No, thanks,” Joonas tells him with a weak smile, trying to squash the urge to say yes for just a few more minutes of his company. “It’s not a long walk back and a little fresh air sounds nice.”

Aleksi nods, face guarded. He shuffles from foot to foot for an awkward moment. “Heard your birthday’s next week,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Joonas responds, smiling genuinely now. “It’s Joel’s too, same day.”

Aleksi smiles at him, chuckling a little. “Yeah, well, I hope Joel won’t be jealous, but I only got something for you,” he continues. 

Aleksi extracts a long, flat box from the inside pocket of his jacket. Joonas thinks he might be blushing as he hands it over. Maybe it’s just the breeze hitting his cheeks, though.

“You didn’t have to,” Joonas mumbles while nonetheless reaching out to accept the gift.

Aleksi just shrugs. Joonas slides the grey silk ribbon off the box’s fine, matte black exterior. Inside it’s lined with velvet on which sits a bracelet made of tooled black leather—authentic, he knows right away from the smell—with a brushed steel clasp.

“Oh, it’s– Um, this is beautiful,” Joonas stammers. “Thank you... I don’t know what to say,” he laughs nervously. He puts it on and it fits perfectly; he definitely blushes as the recent memory of finding one of his favorite bracelets inexplicably in the cupholder of an naïve acting Niko’s car resurfaces.

When Joonas looks back up, he’s so taken by the sight of Aleksi’s smile that he feels momentarily breathless.

“I’m glad you like it,” Aleksi says.

Joonas steps in and wraps Aleksi up in a tight hug without thinking about it, arms around his shoulders and face in his hair. Aleksi laughs, reverberating through Joonas’ chest as he reaches up to hug back. There’s a comforting warmth where Aleksi’s hands rest against him despite how the autumn air is starting to bite. When Aleksi rubs gently over Joonas’ lower back, his skin tingles, nerves lighting up with delight.

“Do you want to get a drink somewhere?” Joonas asks abruptly, chest aching to not let this little thread of connection unravel for the night.

Aleksi pulls away. His eyes are downcast and his mouth is a hard line. “I can’t tonight. Robin’s waiting, you know. Sorry.” He shuffles in place again, energy pivoting suddenly as Joonas’ stomach drops.

“Of course,” Joonas says, swallowing a lump that’s suddenly taken up residence in his throat. “Well, good night, then. Thanks,” he says hastily, feet already moving him back to where he left his car parked at the shop.

“You’re sure you don’t–” Aleksi starts to ask.

“I’m fine to walk. I’ll see you later,” Joonas calls over his shoulder, not looking back.

[house-of-1000-corpses]

241 songs bangers for any occasion

1.MASTODON - Blood and Thunder 03:48 2.RED FANG - Wires 05:43 3.DYING FETUS - Second Skin 04:42 4.OBITUARY - Sentence Day 02:49 5.DEATH - Pull The Plug 04:26 6.AMORPHIS - Black Winter Day 03:50 7.MYRKUR - Leaves of Yggdrasil 04:00 8.NOTHING - Say Less 04:15 9.TORCHE - Admission 04:00 10.BARONESS - March to the Sea 03:11 11.THE DILLINGER ESCAPE PLAN - 43% Burnt 04:31 12.PIG DESTROYER - Trojan Whore 01:34 13.NASUM - Scoop 02:21 14.NILE - Cast Down The Heretic 05:45 15.SUFFOCATION - Catatonia 03:55 16.INCANTATION - Entrails of the Hag Queen 04:33 17.NEUROSIS - Through Silver In Blood 12:11 18.HIGH ON FIRE - Blessed Black Wings 07:43 19.YOB - Ablaze 10:13 20.WINDHAND - Diablerie 05:20 21.MONOLORD - THE LAST LEAF 05:14 22.BONGZILLA - Amerijuanican 06:46 23.GATECREEPER - From The Ashes 03:59 24.EXHUMED - Ravenous Cadavers 01:49 25.FULL OF HELL - Burning Myrrh 02:12 26.INTEGRITY - Hymn, For The Children of the Black Flame 02:16 27.GISM - Endless Blockades For The Pussyfooter 03:46 28.CONTROL DENIED - Expect The Unexpected 07:16 29.NECROPHAGIST - Only Ash Remains 04:11 30.OBSCURA - The Anticosmic Overload 04:16 31.REVOCATION - The Grip Tightens 04:10 32.GRUESOME - A Waste of Life 06:00 33.ZOMBI - Breakthrough & Conquer 03:46 34.GENGHIS TRON - Board Up The House 05:54 35.SURVIVE - A.H.B. 04:25 36.THE ALBUM LEAF - Ambo 04:53 37.CEREMONY - Turn Away The Bad Thing 04:02 38.BORIS WITH MERZBOW - Away From You 07:35 39.ROYAL THUNDER - Parsonz Curse 06:57 40.KING WOMAN - Hierophant 07:59 41.CLOAKROOM - Seedless Star 07:37 42.AUTHOR & PUNISHER - The Speaker Is Systematically Broken 04:14 43.DISFEAR - Deadweight 02:52 44.IRON REAGAN - A Dying World 02:24 45.TOXIC HOLOCAUST - Nuke The Cross 02:47 46.CANDY - Super-Stare 04:01 47.RINGWORM - Death Becomes My Voice 05:19 48.INTER ARMA - Citadel 06:40 49.PRIMITIVE MAN - Menacing 08:00 50.UNEARTHLY TRANCE - Famine 06:14 51.LYCUS - Solar Chamber 10:41 52.DEVOURMENT - Cognitive Sedation Butchery 04:53 53.SKINLESS - The Optimist 05:42 54.DEVIL MASTER - Black Flame Candle 02:46 55.OUTER HEAVEN - Bloodspire 04:15 56.GENOCIDE PACT - Conquered and Disposed 04:37 57.COFFINS - Hour of Execution 04:55 58.MAMMOTH GRINDER - Superior Firepower 02:38 59.LIVING GATE - Heaven Ablaze 03:35 60.REPULSION - Maggots In Your Coffin 01:45 61.AGORAPHOBIC NOSEBLEED - Agorapocalypse Now 02:25 62.MISERY INDEX - Fed To The Wolves 03:47 63.MORTICIAN - Rabid 02:01 64.BRUTAL TRUTH - Sugardaddy 02:36 65.HUMAN REMAINS - Rote 03:31 66.-(16)- - Me and the Dog Die Together 03:05 67.ALABAMA THUNDERPUSSY - Motor-Ready 04:21 68.ASG - Avalanche 04:17 69.CEPHALIC CARNAGE - Endless Cycle Of Violence 04:14 70.CHERUBS - Sooey Pig 04:44 71.COUGH - Haunter of the Dark 07:50 72.CRIPPLE BASTARDS - Non Coinvolto 02:04 73.DISEMBOWELMENT - Your Prophetic Throne Of Ivory 07:40 74.EX EYE - Opposition/Perihelion; The Coil 12:29 75.GADGET - Pillars Of Filth 01:20 76.GRAVES AT SEA - The Curse That Is 11:14 77.HAEMORRHAGE - WE ARE THE GORE 02:15 78.HORSEBACK - Mithras 05:04 79.ILSA - SHIBBOLETH 02:39 80.INDIAN - The Impetus Bleeds 06:40 81.INVERLOCH - Distance Collapsed (In Rubble) 08:39 82.IRON MONKEY - Crown of Electrodes 04:21 83.JOHN FRUM - Presage of Emptiness 04:47 84.LOCRIAN - Arc of Extinction 07:16 85.MARUTA - Hope Smasher 02:19 86.MIRACLE - Light Mind 04:49 87.THE OBSESSED - Sodden Jackal 04:23 88.PINKISH BLACK - Concept Unification 05:13 89.PUBLICIST UK - Slow Dancing To This Bitter Earth 03:36 90.RWAKE - Leviticus 07:17 91.SUMERLANDS - The Seventh Seal 03:46 92.TERMINAL BLISS - Clean Bill of Wealth 00:51 93.TRAPPIST - Victims Of A Bomber Raid 01:38 94.TRUE WIDOW - Four Teeth 06:16 95.WEEKEND NACHOS - Jock Powerviolence 01:23 96.WRONG - Culminate 02:33 97.USNEA - Lathe of Heaven 09:44 98.VICTIMS - The Horse And Sparrow Theory 03:41 99.ZEKE - Two Lane Blacktop 01:37 100.ZONAL - System Error -ft. Moor Mother 04:06 101.ARCADEA - Infinite End 03:28 102.BLACK SALVATION - In A Casket's Ride 07:03 103.BRAIN TENTACLES - Fruitcake 02:35 104.ABSCESS - Naked Freak Show 01:15 105.ABYSMAL DAWN - Inanimate 04:15 106.AGENDA OF SWINE - Gethsemane 01:08 107.ANAL CUNT - Radio Hit 01:11 108.ANATOMY OF HABIT - Radiate and Recede 20:11 109.ANTIGAMA - Pursuit 01:16 110.ATRIARCH - Entropy 05:53 111.BEDEMON - Child Of Darkness 04:12 112.BENUMB - Once And Never Again 01:00 113.BIRDS OF PREY - Hustling the Coroner To Overlook the Strychnine 03:27 114.BLACK ANVIL - May Her Wrath Be Just 04:25 115.BLACK TUSK - Bring Me Darkness 03:05 116.BLOOD DUSTER - Porn Store Stiffi 01:33 117.BLOODIEST - BROKEN TEETH 07:31 118.BRIAN POSEHN - Cuddling 03:55 119.BROUGHTON'S RULES - Reversers 03:50 120.BURIED INSIDE - IV 06:07 121.BURNT BY THE SUN - Soundtrack To The Worst Movie Ever 02:32 122.BURST - Where The Wave Broke 03:36 123.BUZZOVEN - Mainline 05:30 124.CALL OF THE VOID - Bottom Feeder 01:42 125.CAR BOMB - Gum Under The Table 03:27 126.CHRIS CONNELLY - Wait For Amateur 02:05 127.CIRCLE OF ANIMALS - No Faith 04:21 128.CHRISTIAN MISTRESS - Over & Over 02:41 129.COALESCE - Have Patience 03:11 130.COLDWORKER - The Interloper 02:38 131.COLISEUM - Defeater 02:01 132.COLUMNS - Mudfucker 01:18 133.CRETIN - Ghost of Teeth and Hair 03:54 134.CRYPTIC SLAUGHTER - Lowlife 02:32 135.CULTED - BROODING HEX 19:13 136.DAVIE ALLAN - Buzz Saw Effect 02:36 137.DAYLIGHT DIES - Four Corners 08:11 138.DEAD WORLD - The Machine 08:06 139.DEATH BREATH - Death Breath 02:55 140.DEKAPITATOR - The Storm Before the Calm 06:39 141.DISRUPT - Domestic Prison 02:00 142.DON CABALLERO - Railroad Cancellation 05:16 143.DUKATALON - ZX 06:23 144.DYSRHYTHMIA - Appeared at First 03:06 145.EAST WEST BLAST TEST - Magnetic Field 00:51 146.ECSTATIC VISION - Don't Kill The Vibe 05:00 147.EMBALMER - There Was Blood Everywhere 01:51 148.ENEMY SOIL - Sentencing 01:39 149.EXIT-13 - When I Get Low, I Get High 02:36 150.EXPULSION - Altar of Slaughter 01:43 151.FACEDOWNINSHIT - NPON 04:19 152.FATHER BEFOULED - Sacrilegious Defilement of Deranged Salvation 03:20 153.FLESH PARADE - Backstabber 01:14 154.FUCK THE FACTS - The Wrecking 04:39 155.GENERAL SURGERY - Slithering Maceration Of Ulcerous Facial Tissue 01:11 156.GENOCIDE SUPERSTARS - Hatestomp 03:08 157.GOD MACABRE - Lost 04:01 158.GOBLIN REBIRTH - Requiem for X 04:16 159.GRAVES OF VALOR - Suffocation of the Last King 03:45 160.HAIL! HORNET - Beast Of Bourbon 03:11 161.HARVEY MILK - The Anvil Will Fall 07:34 162.HALO - Buried In Light 04:37 163.HEMDALE - Delicious Gory Fun 01:11 164.HERO DESTROYED - That's An Axe 03:27 165.HOODED MENACE - Elysium Of Dripping Death 11:33 166.HOPE DRONE - Riverbeds Hewn in Marrow 10:39 167.HOWL - Horns Of Steel 03:26 168.HUMAN REMAINS - Weeding Out The Thorns 02:37 169.INEVITABLE END - The Severed Inception 04:04 170.JOEL GRIND - The Invisible Landscape 02:12 171.JUCIFER - Blackpowder 02:16 172.KARABOUDJAN - Den Svarta Ön 07:32 173.KILL THE CLIENT - Vicious Slaughter 01:06 174.KINGDOM OF SORROW - Enlightened To Extinction 03:47 175.KRIEG - CIRCLE OF GUILT 05:20 176.LENG TCH'E - The Fist of the Leng Tch'e 01:50 177.LIBERTEER - Build No System 01:34 178.LOOKING FOR AN ANSWER - Tapias De Cementerio 02:07 179.LORD DYING - POISONED ALTARS 03:47 180.LULL - Moment 1 01:08 181.MAGRUDERGRIND - Sacrificial Hire 01:32 182.MAN MUST DIE - Kill It Skin It Wear It 04:18 183.MANTAS - Evil Dead (Death By Metal Demo) 03:22 184.MERZBOW - Woodpecker No. 1 06:43 185.MINDROT - Anguish 07:11 186.MINSK - Within And Without 07:57 187.MORGION - The Serpentine Scrolls 10:33 188.MORTA SKULD - Sacrificial Rite 03:26 189.MOSE GIGANTICUS - The Left Path 04:13 190.MUMAKIL - Brothers in Slavery 01:20 191.MURDER CONSTRUCT - Compelled by Mediocrity 02:44 192.N2K2 - Mourning 03:54 193.NOISEAR - Inevitable Extinction 01:00 194.NUM SKULL - Ritually Abused 04:27 195.NUX VOMICA - Sanity Is For The Passive 12:40 196.OBLITERATION - Goat Skull Crown 04:40 197.OPPROBRIUM - Voices From The Grave 03:23 198.ORIGIN - Finite 03:08 199.PAN.THY.MONIUM - The Battle Of Geeheeb 11:55 200.PENTAGRAM - Forever My Queen 02:25 201.PHOBIA - Rehashed 01:05 202.POISON BLOOD - The Scourge and the Gestalt 03:40 203.PRIMATE - Draw Back A Stump 01:26 204.PUTRID PILE - The Satisfying Dead 02:50 205.PYRRHON - Balkanized 04:46 206.RABBITS - A Tale Of Tales 04:44 207.RAZOR - Hypertension 03:19 208.REGURGITATE - Putrid Serenity 01:44 209.ROTTEN SOUND - Superior 01:28 210.RUMPELSTILTSKIN GRINDER - Grab a Shovel (We've Got Bodies to Bury) 04:51 211.SATAN'S SATYRS - Succubus 03:40 212.SAYYADINA - Their Control 01:04 213.SCOTT HULL - Il funerale di Bonnie 03:47 214.SACRILEGE - Shadow From Mordor 04:50 215.SERPENTINE PATH - Essence Of Heresy 03:47 216.SOILENT GREEN - It Was Just An Accident 04:12 217.SPAWN OF POSSESSION - Apparition 08:24 218.STEVE MOORE - It's Complicated 02:41 219.SUBARACHNOID SPACE - A 09:16 220.TERMINAL SOUND SYSTEM - Silt 06:43 221.THE COUNTY MEDICAL EXAMINERS - Morgagnic Anatomics 04:14 222.THE END - Throwing Stones 03:29 223.THE GREAT TYRANT - Closing In 07:42 224.THE HIGH CONFESSIONS - Chlorine And Crystal 09:35 225.TITAN - Wooded Altar Beyond The Wander 08:00 226.TOMBS - Merrimack 03:56 227.TRIAL OF THE BOW - Father of the Flower 04:07 228.TRIBES OF NEUROT - Primordial Uncarved Block 06:24 229.ULCERATE - ABROGATION 05:50 230.ULTRAMANTIS BLACK - Prescription Culture 01:04 231.UNKIND - Vihan Lapset 02:45 232.UPHILL BATTLE - Ripped Off Face 03:29 233.VVEREVVOLF GREHV - Audio Processor 04:45 234.VIDNA OBMANA - The Insane Brightness 05:33 235.VIRAL LOAD - Methlab Machete Massacre 03:07 236.VOIVOD - God Phones 05:07 237.WEAPON - Vanguard Of The Morning Star 04:19 238.WOLVSERPENT - Within the Light of Fire 16:24 239.BASTARD NOISE, SICKNESS - Death's Door 16:09 240.PSYWARFARE - Au Regal Des Voraces 20:02 241.THE SOUL REBELLION ORCHESTRA - DOLEMITE 03:01

[milfbro]

I just mentioned to my mum that Batman has a compulsion for adopting and training children to fight dangerous criminals from a very young age and how that's very creepy

and her sole reaction was "wait robin is his son?? I thought he was his lover"

like she really thought he was openly robin's sugardaddy and that was canon and that people just rolled with it

she had no idea robin is a literal child

wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where batman has always been canonically gay and people just accepted it

Then we could all appreciate the complete work of art that Joel Schumacher's Batman and Robin truly represented for the world

[notjustjavierpena]

Perfect

A/N: This is completely self-indulgent. The first part of dark and twisted sugar daddy Joel. Beware of the tags. This is NOT okay behavior. 

Summary: Joel Miller, a walking menace, buys you pretty things in exchange for shoving his cock in you. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dub-con, painful and rough sex, p in v sex, degradation, abusive behavior, creampie, dirty talk, dacryphilia, no aftercare, sugar daddy, daddy kink

Word count: 1.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49786882

Perfect

You stand in front of the full-body mirror to hold up a pair of golden earrings to your ears, catching the way the beautiful droplet-shaped diamonds hanging from the bottom reflect in the chandelier’s light. You crinkle your nose immediately, snobbishly, and put them down in their designated spot in your vanity’s drawer.  

You’ve acquired a particular taste for pretty things over the last few months. The people at the reception he is taking you to would probably fawn over the price of the earrings that you have just discarded but when money isn’t worth worrying about, all the pairs in your collection become a matter of taste instead of flash. 

You settle on a simple pair of small, thick gold hoops. They fit the blood-red dress perfectly, which you smooth out with your manicured hands to erase any flaw that he doesn’t deserve. Not when he has been so good to you, and saved you from being a victim to everyday tedious work and boredom. 

The hoops dangle slightly as you move to sit in front of the vanity. They are only a few weeks old and handmade by a goldsmith that had been recommended to you. The man, old and experienced, had created them from nothing right before your eyes, and whilst they had only been one out of many extravagant gifts during the short trip to France, they had stuck out the most and have since become your favorites. 

“I was hopin’ you would choose those tonight,” Joel’s voice suddenly washes over your unsuspecting form. You jump slightly but accept every crash like they are heaven. You find his eyes in the mirror, smile softly at him but he seems too busy weighing his words to smile back. 

He strides across the carpeted floor and you can hear that he has yet to put on shoes. Soon, you feel his calloused hands rest on your bare shoulders, thumbs starting to rub circles into your skin whilst you try concentrating on putting on lipstick. His hands are warm and rough, palms belonging to someone who is hardworking and respected. 

“I got ya something,” he adds after a moment of admiring the sight of you getting ready. You turn your head to look up at him with doe-eyes but he cups your chin to turn your face back to the mirror, “Close your eyes.”

You do as you are told, placing your hands in your lap like an obedient thing. Your hearing works overtime when you hear shuffling behind you, Joel digging into his pocket and fumbling with something for a moment.

An impatient noise leaves you. 

“Don’t look or ya won’t get it,” he warns softly. 

You gasp as metal hits your skin, and you immediately know that it is a necklace. You open your eyes to watch it hang around your neck in the mirror, a hand coming up to touch it. It feels warm from having been in Joel’s hand, and when your eyes drop to look at it properly, you smile shyly. It is absolutely breathtaking. 

“It’s beautiful,” you study its small gold links and the gold cylinder that lays right over your jugular notch. It is so simple and elegant, “Thank you, Joel.”

“I need you to be perfect tonight,” he tells you instead of saying that you are welcome. The necklace comes with an expectation then. 

“You just worry about the other guests, and I’ll worry about looking beautiful,” you joke and go back to fixing your red lipstick with a Q-tip. 

“Is this a joke to you?” Joel asks, voice harsh out of nowhere. 

Your heart jumps in your chest, “What? No.”

“Then why are you actin’ like it?” His nostrils flare. 

“I wasn’t—“

“Shut up.”

His large palm settles between your shoulder blades and then he roughly pushes you forward. Your elbows bang into the surface of your vanity, head nearly knocking into the mirror at the surprise of his shove. It almost feels like it already has with the way your head swims. 

He goes rougher in his push and everything on top comes tumbling down; makeup brushes, a tray of nail polish, jewelry boxes, and even an expensive new bottle of perfume that luckily doesn’t break because it is saved by the soft carpet.

Your hands scramble for something to hold onto. Joel lets out a condescending laugh behind you, but he doesn’t give you time to regain your composure. 

He kicks the vanity chair out from underneath you which tumbles to the side, and your knees hit the floor as a result. It causes you to sob but instead of cussing him out, you stay silent and thank God that your chosen dress will be able to cover the bruises that will appear soon. 

“I was just finishing getting ready,” you try to make him show mercy the second he hauls you up to stand on your feet. He holds you against the table with his iron grip and when he puts one foot between yours, you can feel his hardening cock press into the back of your thigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“I said shut the fuck up,” he growls, free hand sliding around the front of your throat to cup your chin once again. He yanks your head upwards so he can look at you in the mirror as he speaks, “If you’re gonna misbehave, you fuckin’ take what I give ya instead of givin’ me excuses.”

You don’t try to argue that you had meant nothing by your comment. Whatever Joel says is what goes when he is angry, and at this point of your interaction you know better than to take his words as anything else but gospel. The game is over for you, and it was long before he even entered the bedroom. It’s been over since he fucked your lights out the first time. 

“No!” You squeak as the stitching of your dress rips when Joel’s hand curls around the hem to pull it up your thighs. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that it was tailored to you just days ago, ruining it without batting his eyes. 

The hand on your chin comes up to cover your mouth. You whimper pathetically into his palm, shaking your head as he tauntingly tears the seams of your dress even more. 

Finally, he settles it around your shaking hips. You are wet already due to the power, the carelessness, the harsh nature of his every move. He sighs in annoyance at the sight of your garter belt, “You make things so fuckin’ difficult f’me.”

A finger curls around your lace panties, and he tugs until they also come apart under his touch. You had wanted to give him a show when you had gotten home later, but he is spoiling the surprise with every passing second. Spoiling it by destroying it. 

“Please, Joel,” you say but it is muffled into his hand. 

“The more ya struggle, the less I’ll care,” he says simply and you still in his grip. When he is satisfied with his work on your clothes, removing any barrier that’ll separate his cock from your cunt, he moves to undo his belt and zipper. A grunt leaves his lips as the cool air of the room hits the sensitive skin of his dick. 

He shoves inside of you without warning with an animalistic sound. It stings painfully as he forces your walls to adjust to him, but you soothe yourself by biting down on the flesh of his palm. He responds by digging his hand further into your mouth, forcing it open even more until your jaw strains. 

When he starts fucking you harshly, you know for a fact that by the end of this, you will have to start getting ready all over again. You cannot see the red lipstick in the mirror, but you know it is smeared since its taste mixes with the salt of Joel’s skin. Your eyes sting too, wet mascara dripping into them as you cry from the intensity of what is happening to your body. 

He knows you like it like this, you try to convince yourself, he’d never continue if you didn’t like it. 

“Don’t you ever have the audacity to talk back to me again,” he spits venomously, picking up his pace. The edge of the table gnaws into the front of your thighs, and he seems to keep going deeper despite kissing your cervix with every thrust, “That ain’t how this thing works. I don’t want to hear another disrespectful word comin’ out ya mouth when I pay you to be nothing outside of me. You are fuckin’ nothing.” 

Tears of frustration and grief fall from your eyes despite the growing pressure in your lower abdomen. A strong hand settles on your hips. Joel grinds his pelvis into you with a force that makes the table shake, a few other decoration pieces falling off. Your cunt throbs at the thought of him making it up to you by letting you choose new pretty items to replace the broken ones. You push back into him.

���Hah, you dumb slut,” he taunts, landing a painful slap on the curve of your ass. You clench around him at the impact and he nearly becomes unable to finish his sentence, “You love Daddy’s cock that much when it makes you cry?” 

You nod frantically. 

“That’s right,” he says over your shoulder, “Good girl takin’ me every way I want.”

His own moans start to interrupt his speech. He grows more silent, more concentrated on fucking you open until you might collapse. 

You can barely stand anymore, but he shifts to hold your hips with both his hands. As the hand leaves your mouth, you realize how vocal you have become because your screams bounce off the walls and come back at you with a mocking undertone. Look at what he has reduced you to. You are sure the staff can hear you too. Any newcomers will be in the middle of getting talked out of calling the police right now. 

Your every muscle aches by now. He has you on your tippy toes with how hard he goes, and your body cannot fight it anymore. The coil in your belly is just about to snap. 

“I’m gonna— gonna come, Daddy.”

“I knew you would, baby, my perfect girl,” he praises to the point where your stomach swirls with excitement and joy. He lets you come without being mean to you, watching your thighs as they shake and your eyes as they weep fresh tears from relief.

Your fluttering cunt sends him over the edge too. He speaks filthy nonsense, pulsating inside of you until you feel his load spill down your folds from how much he fills you. He pants softly whilst you milk him, aggression seeping from him as he comes down from his high.

“Thank you,” you sob quietly, “Thank you, thank you.”

“Clean up this mess,” he orders after pulling out, one last stab at you, “Staff shouldn’t be responsible for your dirty doin’.”

You fall to your knees as he starts tucking himself back into his dress pants. Your cheek rests on the cool surface of the vanity, and you actively avoid the puddle of saliva you’ve created there. 

“We’re leaving in half an hour,” he says before leaving you to the sound of nothing but your heaving breaths and his come dripping from your cunt. 

Later, after choosing a dress that’s nowhere as beautiful as the red one, you notice a generous number has been inserted into your bank account. He scoffs a ‘perfect’ when you meet him in the garage.

.

.

.

TAGLIST: FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

[from-the-clouds]

from-the-clouds masterlist

i’m always open to suggestions but cannot guarantee i will write every request. 

* denotes NSFW content. 18+ only. 

THE LAST OF US (TV SERIES)

Joel Miller

moonlight on the river

savior complex* | bad liars (part ii)* -- prequel/companion pieces to moonlight on the river, can be read on their own

texas sun - series masterlist 

volume i 

volume ii 

volume iii 

volume iv 

volume v* 

volume vi*

SUCCESSION

Kendall Roy

Thinking of a Place (Miniseries - Complete ) 01 | 02* | 03* | 04* | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

College!Kendall - All Is On My Side* | An Education*

Headcanons

Greg Hirsch

Sprinkles

Selfless

THE BATMAN

Edward Nashton (Dano!Riddler)

the charmer under me*

MARVEL / MCU

Quentin Beck/Mysterio

Everything You’ve Come To Expect (Miniseries - Indefinitely on haitus) 01 | 02 | 03 |

Helmut Zemo

Kiss Me More (Complete - Miniseries) 01 | 02 | 03* | 04 |

Home - 01 | 02

A Man After Midnight* (Sugardaddy! Zemo x Reader)

Steve Rogers

Shock

Broken (AU) | Part II*

Bucky Barnes

Truth | Part II

STAR WARS

Luke Skywalker

Journal

Teased

Chance

Poe Dameron

Poe Dating A Bookworm

Poe As A Dad

Safe & Sound

Fleeing The Resistance Base

Cassian Andor

Nomads

OZARK

Marty Byrde

Hold Out

DUNKIRK

Collins

Warmth//Warmth (Part II)

Bullets

Somewhere Only We Know (Series, Collins x Reader)

Indefinitely on haitus - 17/18 Chapters:  Chapter 1//Chapter 2//Chapter 3//Chapter 4//Chapter 5//Chapter 6//Chapter 7//Chapter 8//Chapter 9//Chapter 10*//Chapter 11//Chapter 12//Chapter 13//Chapter 14//Chapter 15//Chapter 16//Chapter 17 (Fic Playlist)

Alex

Bleeding Out

Alive

Drowning

Fastened - Alex x Tommy

[notjustjavierpena]

Will sugar daddy joel make an appearance again???

Shopping

A/N: He will, but he is very busy not spoiling his baby. Have a drabble of their recent activities!

Summary: Joel takes you shopping for lingerie.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: Sugardaddy!joel, abusive behavior, joel is cruel and powerful, daddy kink, unhealthy power dynamic, sex toys in public, orgasm denial

Word count: 1k

Shopping

“Don’t come,” Joel says as you squirm.

You shake your head, chest flushed pink at your rapid heart rate, “I won’t, I promise.”

He taps his thigh impatiently with his fingers as you look into the mirror to admire the bordeaux silk. You are in a dressing room, and you have been in here for what seems like forever with how turned on you are. Beside you, a steadily growing pile of lingerie gets bigger with every unsatisfied grunt Joel lets out. He cannot seem to make up his mind, but you think you like the blood-red set the best.

A quiet hum accompanies the both of you as background noise. It’s the buzzing sound of a little vibrator that sits against your clit, shaped like a butterfly and secured around your waist, hips and thighs with thin, pink straps. You can barely feel them digging into your skin anymore because of the heat radiating from your core with every pulse of the little device.

“This one?” You question him about the expensive underwear that you are wearing and try your best to hide the impatience in your voice. If only he would say yes because then you could come, that was the rule of this game that you hadn’t agreed to play.

You lean in to stare at the expensive lace pattern that’s barely covering your breasts, ignoring the throbbing between your legs to keep your word. It is becoming harder though, so you scrunch up your nose and wiggle your hips slightly to show off the skimpy outfit. Maybe that’ll change his mind.

Joel takes a sip of the to-go cup that he has brought into the store without permission, looking like he is making a life-altering decision. Then he shakes his head and your shoulders slump.

“Daddy,” you groan, refraining from stomping your feet in a tantrum-like manner.

“Turn,” he says without a hint of care for your childish display, drawing a circle in the air with his finger, “Lemme see ya.”

You do as you are told. The vibrator shifts just slightly as your legs move, causing the pressure to change for the briefest seconds and you flinch in embarrassment as a moan escapes your mouth. You were doing so well. Joel says nothing but as you face him, there’s a gleam of mischief in his eyes and a condescending smile on his face.

You shift a little on the spot again. The pressure in your belly grows, and you reach for the thick velvet curtain that separates you from the rest of the store to have something to helplessly hold onto. God—

“Don’t come,” he commands again, eyes roaming over your shaking body. He leans in to inspect the silk stitching on the curve of your hip, talking as if speaking about the weather, “You’ll ruin the silk I haven’t paid for with how much you usually cream yourself.”

You’re just about to say something but he interrupts the snark that he knows would have come from your mouth. The mischief is gone, having been replaced by sternness, “Trust me. I’m not in the mood.”

“Sorry,” you pout, “But don’t you like this one?”

Joel hums as a way of saying no, “Are you getting bored?”

“You said we were going shopping.”

He reaches a hand up to pull at the elastic band of the panties. It snaps against your skin and with how much your senses are on overdrive, you gasp and he chuckles darkly, “We are shopping, little rabbit.”

Joel’s hand then goes down to cup your whole cunt, pressing slightly inwards where your slit is. The fabric dips into you just slightly and you mewl pathetically.

But then the hand is gone as quickly as it arrived.

“This isn’t fun,” you continue complaining to distract yourself. If only you weren’t so close to coming you would be able to say it without your voice shaking. If only he’d tell you how pretty you are; you’ve grown accustomed to hearing his praise, having his eyes on you so you can come alive underneath their burn as they drink you in.

“I think it’s fun,” he answers, pats your hips to signal you to move around and with it makes you shudder, “Look at me again.”

He beckons you down towards him and when you lean down, bending over in the tiny cubicle, you almost think that he is about to kiss you. Instead, he grabs your jaw and presses your cheeks inwards with his strong fingers. You whimper, cunt clenching in interest as his eyes bore into you with a mix between disgust and arousal.

“You’re using my money, kiddo,” he spits harshly, “So don’t you think that it’s fair that I get to decide on what we do and what we buy?”

You nod slowly and with embarrassment. A moan escapes your lips again, and Joel gives you a look of disapproval. He reaches into his pocket and the buzz between your thighs comes to a halt, leaving you aching and wet to the point where it’ll start to get painful soon.

“Get dressed,” he says, pushing himself to stand.

You start taking off the lingerie that still hasn’t impressed him in the slightest. If only you could afford the red set alone but the money isn't there, and he isn’t easily convinced (he would have been by now).

“Which one are we getting?” You ask. Hopeful.

“None. They all looked fucking ugly on you anyway,” he moves past you quickly, exasperatedly.

“But,” you try, looking down between your legs so you don’t have to say it out loud. Please, Daddy, make me feel good.

He tears open the velvet curtain, making you scramble to cover up your very naked form, “Make yourself come. I’m gonna make a few calls.”

So you do as he leaves because it’ll hurt too much if you don’t. You come with a cry that’s held back by your teeth nearly splitting your lip open but then again; according to you, red is your color.

.

.

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[joelmillerisapunk]

Late night devil put your hands on me

Sugardaddy!Joel Miller x F!reader

Masterlist ☆ Sugar Daddy Masterlist

Wordcount: 2,139

Warnings: 18+, male oral receiving, reader is blindfolded, unprotected p in v. I can not ruin the rest, but there's nothing triggering. If I did miss anything, please lemme know 🥰

Summary: Your sugar daddy treats you to a surprise trip, gifting you with three sensory delights: one for touch, one for smell, and one for taste.

Notes: I hope you enjoy your first trip sugar babies

You've been chatting with Joel for the past week or so, getting to know each other and exploring a mutual attraction. It's been exciting and a little nerve-wracking, but you're enjoying the rush of new emotions that come along with having a sugar daddy.

So, when Joel calls you up unexpectedly and asks if you want to go on an overnight trip, you're caught off guard. "Tonight?" You say, looking up from your desk where you're working on a graphic design project for a client. "But that's so soon."

"I thought the terms of our agreement were clear," Joel says, his voice low and commanding. "Spontaneity is key, and I’m already down here, waiting."

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm, enjoying the rush of this commitment. "Okay," you say, a little cautiously, knowing you're going to be cutting the deadline close. "I'll go pack a bag."

You quickly gather some clothes and toiletries, your heart racing with excitement and anticipation. When you're ready, you head outside to meet Joel.

He's waiting for you by his car, blindfold in hand. "Just trust me," he says, as he gently ties the soft fabric around your eyes, heightening your sense of anticipation and your senses in general.

You feel the cool night air against your skin as Joel leads you to his car, helping you climb into the passenger seat. You hear the trunk of the car close, your luggage now secure. The engine roars to life, and you brace yourself for the familiar sensation of the car pulling away from the curb. As he drives, you feel the smoothness of the leather seats and the gentle hum of the engine. The drive is a blur of twists and turns. The sound of gravel crunching under the tires and the occasional rustle of leaves as the wind blows lulls you into a state of excited curiosity. You feel Joel's hand on yours, gently holding it as he navigates the roads.

After what feels like hours of driving, Joel brings the car to a gentle halt. He steps out, and you can hear the faint rustle of leaves as he moves around the car to open your door. Gently, he guides you out of the car, taking your hand in his. The air is crisp and clean, filling your lungs with the scent of pine and earth.

As Joel leads you forward, you can feel the ground beneath your feet change from smooth pavement to a softer, uneven terrain. Your senses are heightened, and you can hear the distant sound of a babbling brook and the hoot of an owl echoing through what you can only assume is a forest.

Finally, just as you're about to question yourself for letting a man you barely know willingly take you to the woods, Joel removes the blindfold, and you gasp at the breathtaking view that greets you.

The moonlit sky stretches out above you, a tapestry of stars twinkling like diamonds against the inky blackness. Below, the mountains loom, majestic and timeless, their snow-capped peaks kissed by the silvery moonlight. The world seems to stretch out before you, a canvas of endless possibilities, and you can't help but feel your heart swell in awe at the beauty of it all.

"Wow," you breathe, taking in the snow-capped mountains and the endless expanse of stars overhead.

Joel smiles. "I'm glad you like it, but there's something else I want to show you.” He takes your hand and leads you towards a cozy cabin nestled in the heart of the forest. As you approach, you can see the warm glow of lamplight spilling out from the windows, casting shadows on the ground.

Joel opens the door, and you step inside. The cabin is breathtaking, with soaring ceilings and exposed wood beams. The walls are adorned with vintage skis and snowshoes. In the center of the room, there's a large stone fireplace, the logs crackling and popping as they burn. The scent of burning wood fills the air, mingling with the faint aroma of vanilla and cinnamon.

"This is amazing. How did you do all of this?" You say, your voice filled with awe.

"I thought you might enjoy it here," Joel replies, his voice low and husky. "Now, come with me." He completely ignores your question, leaving you with more questions than answers.

He takes your hand and leads you towards the bedroom. The room is dimly lit. In the center, there's a large four-poster bed adorned with plush velvet blankets and rose petals. A bottle of wine and two glasses sit on the bedside table, along with a selection of chocolates and fruit.

"This is...incredible," you say, your heart racing with excitement.

"I wanted to make this night special for you," Joel says, his eyes dark with desire. He takes your hand and leads you towards the bed, where you take a seat. “Close your eyes and put out your hands, I have a surprise for you."

You do as you're told, and then you feel the weight of a small box being placed in your palms. “Okay, open.”

You look at Joel for a moment before taking in the beautifully decorated box. You're feeling a little nervous, but ultimately, your excitement outweighs it, and you dig into the box, opening it to see an extravagant gift - a delicate gold necklace adorned with more diamonds than you knew could fit on such a delicate necklace. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and you can't believe that it's yours.

“Joel, this is - it's beautiful. I don't know what to say.” You smile in awe, staring at the necklace.”

“May I?” He gestures to the necklace.

You nod eagerly, handing Joel the delicate necklace.

Joel carefully takes the necklace out of the box, holding it up to the moonlight to admire its beauty. He then turns to you, his eyes filled with desire and longing. He steps closer, his body just inches away from yours, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

His fingers gently brush against your skin as he reaches around to clasp the necklace. His touch is soft, yet firm, and you can't help but shiver with anticipation. His hands linger for a moment, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck before he finally clasps the necklace.

You can feel the weight of the necklace against your skin, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of Joel's touch. He takes a step back, his eyes never leaving yours as he admires his handiwork.

The necklace sparkles in the moonlight, the diamonds catching the light and casting rainbows across your skin. Joel reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against it, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

His touch is intimate, and you can feel the desire building between you. His eyes are dark, filled with want, and you can't help but lean in closer to him.

Joel's hands are strong and sure as they move to your shoulders, his thumbs gently tracing circles on your skin. His touch is intoxicating, and you find yourself leaning into him, your body molding to his.

"Your next gift," he says, his voice low and husky, "this one is a little different. Close your eyes."

You do as you're told again. You can't believe this is even happening. How many gifts does he have for you? You feel Joel's hands leave your shoulders, and you can hear the rustle of fabric as he grabs it from a bag.

"Okay, open."

You open your eyes to see Joel holding a small, velvet box. You recognize it as the kind that perfume comes in, and your heart skips a beat with excitement.

This is a very special perfume," Joel says, his eyes dark with desire. "It's made with exotic ingredients, and it's said to drive people wild with desire. I want you to try it."

He opens the box, and you can smell the intoxicating scent of the perfume even from where you're standing. It's a rich, musky scent, and you can feel it already starting to affect you.

"Here, let me put it on for you."

Joel takes the perfume bottle and sprays a little on your wrist. You can feel the cool liquid on your skin, and then the heat as it dries. The scent is intoxicating, and you can feel yourself getting lost in it.

"Now, there's one more gift I want to give you," Joel says, his eyes dark with desire. "But this one is a little more... personal. How ‘bout you sit on the bed for this baby.” He takes your hand, guiding you to the edge of the bed. “Close your eyes.”

You do as you're told once more, and then you hear more rustling and zipping, and then you can feel Joel's hand under chin. “You've had a gift for touch, a gift for smell, now a gift for taste. Open your mouth.” He orders and places his thumb on your bottom lip, gently guiding it open.

“Good girl, now, stick out your tongue.” Joel's voice is low and husky as he speaks, sending shivers down your spine. You stick out your tongue and feel the weight of his expectations. You hear him shift closer to you, and then you feel the tip of his cock brush against your tongue.

You gasp in surprise, but Joel's hand is there to steady you, guiding you as you take him into your mouth. He's large and hard, and you can feel the heat of him against your tongue. You wrap your lips around him, feeling the soft skin of his shaft against your mouth.

Joel moans softly, his fingers tangling in your hair as he begins to move his hips. You follow his lead, your mouth moving up and down as you explore him with your tongue. You can taste the saltiness of his skin, the musky taste of his arousal.

Joel's thrusts start to become more urgent, his hips moving faster as he fucks your mouth. You can feel the tension building in his body. The muscles in his thighs are tensing as he gets closer to climax. Suddenly, he pulls out, his cock glistening with your saliva. He looks at you with a dark, hungry gaze, his eyes flashing with desire.

Before you can react, he reaches for the necklace, his fingers wrapping around the delicate chain. With a swift, brutal motion, he rips it off your neck, the clasp digging into your skin as he tears it away.

You gasp in surprise, your hand instinctively going to your throat to protect it. But Joel is beyond reason, beyond control. He's consumed by his desire, his need to possess you, to claim you as his own, his need for human connection.

He throws the necklace aside, the diamonds scattering across the floor like stars in the night sky. His hands are on you again, his fingers digging into your skin as he pushes you back onto the bed. Before you can think he's swiftly removing your clothes and his, and then you can feel the weight of him on top of you, as he climbs onto the bed like a wild animal on the hunt, you can feel the intense heat of his body as he covers you. His cock is hard and eager, probing at your entrance. You're wet and ready for him, your body aching with need.

With a thrust, he's inside you, filling you up. You cry out, your nails digging into his back as he starts to move. He fucks you with a raw, primal need that you've never experienced before, his hips slamming into yours as he drives himself deeper and deeper. You can feel the pleasure spiraling higher and higher.

Joel's thrusts become more urgent, his hips slamming into you with the fierce, desperate need of someone longing for any kind of connection. You can feel the bed shaking beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall as he fucks you with a primal intensity.

"You like that, don't you?" he growls, his lips brushing against your ear. "You like feeling me inside you, filling you up?"

You can only moan in response, your body trembling with pleasure as he drives you higher and higher. His words only serve to fuel your desire, to make you want him more.

"Tell me you want it," he commands, his fingers digging into your hips. "Tell me you want me to fuck you harder."

"Yes," you gasp, your voice hoarse with pleasure. "Harder, please.”

And with those words, Joel loses control. he drives himself deeper. You can feel the spiraling higher and higher until it threatens to consume you. "Come for me," Joel growls, his fingers digging harder into your skin. "Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you come apart beneath me."

And with those words, you do. You come harder than you ever have before, your body trembling with pleasure as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you. And with a final, brutal thrust, Joel comes alongside you, his cock pulsing deep inside your belly. You can feel the warmth of his release, the way it fills you up and completes you.

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of your breathing, the feel of your bodies entwined. And then, with a gentle kiss, Joel pulls out, his eyes filled with a soft, tender love.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck. "I'll buy you a new one, but I want you to remember this moment - the way I made you feel the way you came apart for me. The way you belong to me."

You nod, your heart still racing from the intensity of your orgasm. Joel reaches down and picks up the broken necklace, his fingers brushing against the shattered gold.

"I'll make sure to get you something even more beautiful this time," he says, his voice full of promise.

[macfrog]

champagne problems sex on fire chapter ten

i'm not sorry!!!!! you'll never catch me!!!! (im, like, super sorry)

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: the secrecy between you and joel comes to a head. one huge, explosive, painful head.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, whew boy the angst is big in this one sorry, reader has a lot of internal struggle, daddy issues and commitment issues to the max (ha), memories of parental abandonment and adultery, sort of vague mention/description of reader having panic attacks, attempts to initiate sex (but alas, only one small mention of previous sex), Big Argument, alcohol consumption, cursing, sugardaddy!joel, soft!joel, fluff and angst. angst angst angst angst

word count: 11.1k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

The lavender is the first to wilt.

It stares glumly at the kitchen counter. Posture hunched and drooping. You stand before it, clutching a jug of water like you’re starving the purple sprigs for information. Why did he lie to me why did he lie why would he lie to me tell me why.

The daisies look on, awkward and curious. Their petals streaked with green – still fresh and still at least trying to bloom. The news hasn’t reached their delicate stamens yet – they still have blind hope. But they’re drinking from the same rotten water their lilac neighbors are. They must know it’s futile.

You fill the vase up and fix the lace bow – the one you’d transferred from the brown paper wrap to the vase last night, after seeing Joel out. He stayed until nightfall, until the rest of your apartment faded into a pale gloom, forgotten about while the two of you watched TV and kept secrets from one another in your warm-lit bedroom.

When he leaned down and held his lips over yours, you pushed yourself onto your toes and kissed him goodbye. He ruffled your hair, clipped your bottom lip lovingly. Said, I’ll call you tomorrow. Get some sleep, pretty girl.

You lay staring at the ceiling the whole night.

He was out all day Saturday at a charity event. He called you as he arrived home – you heard the elevator’s ding through the receiver, announcing its arrival at his top-floor apartment. And you stayed on the phone, the thing discarded on your mattress, as sleep blurred the edges of the world in and out of focus all evening.

Three times you thought about just telling him to come back over, hold you until you forgot what he’d even done. Pretend that the man who, possessed by lies and jealousy or something much worse, had taken your wrist and swept you off out of Jean-Marc’s penthouse isn’t the same one who brought you tea and Chinese food yesterday. The one who held you, blood and broken wings safe in his arms, while you wept into his body.

Three times you stamped the flame out, remembering. As if you needed reminding. Your stomach still sinks anytime the reel jerks back to its beginning behind your eyes. The words unfortunately and unavailable. The rustling of the bag in the kitchen. The padding of his footsteps drawing nearer and nearer.

Your phone buzzes somewhere across the room. You set the jug down and shuffle over, tilting the screen in the morning light.

We’re outside baby. Take your time.

You haven’t mentioned it to him, yet. Haven’t breached the conversation. You’ve no fucking clue where to start. It hurts too much to look at it just yet – like scalding yourself with boiling water and clamping a wet towel to the burn until you can stomach the sight of your skin, all blistered and bubbling.

The towel is still covering the wound. You’re still frantically pacing around the kitchen clutching it, heavy and sopping. You’re not sure what it looks like, but from beneath the cold cloth, it doesn’t feel good.

It doesn’t feel good at all.

Joel’s leaning against the Rolls when you totter down your front steps. Fall plucks the leaves from the trees one by one; they swirl down to the smooth pavement, brown and amber and golden. You’re in a floral tea dress, which took you an obscene amount of time to decide on, given the cocktail of nerves and confusion and outright panic rolling around your stomach.

Your heel scuffs to a halt in front of him. He pushes off of the car and swings your door open, squints at you in the sunlight. You watch his eyes move down your frame, a misplaced desire to impress him dripping through your veins, and then he looks back up.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says, and your veins sizzle. “You look…” he shakes his head simply, “…you’re beautiful.”

Your lips betray you. Your mind – that poor, dead lavender; your body – the poor, naïve daisies. Still has blind hope.

You can’t help but reflect his expression, attempting to mask it with a soft shrug. “Are the heels too much?” you ask, glancing down and lifting your foot.

Joel shakes his head instantly. “I like ‘em. And even if they were, we’re late. You ain’t got time to change.”

“You said you’d be here at twelve. It’s ten after.”

“I run a construction company, not a watchmakers. You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say. Unconvincingly.

“I mean,” he circles a hand over his stomach, lifts his eyebrows, “you feelin’ okay? We don’t have to go – Martha wouldn’t mind, you know that.”

“I’m fine,” you chirp, and your painted lips flatten against one another as you dip into the car. “Hi, Rand.”

The driver lowers his sunglasses and tips his head in the rear-view. “Hi, baby.”

Joel shimmies along the leather, shifting his jacket from between you to scoop your body against his. You glance down, eyeing his soft sweater, the light shade of it paired against that of your dress. The glint of his watch as his wrist slips happily between your legs, hooking under your thigh. The bloody crimson of the birthday card envelope, trembling in the door pocket.

The car pulls off, dragging you from your daydream. Stealing you back from the dystopia where you and Joel match, where you go together. A couple. Removing the notion of it from your makeup, each cell in your body slowly reverting back to yours again. Just yours. No CEO boss to stake his claim to any of them.

Martha’s place sits at the end of a cul-de-sac; neighbored on one side by a retired couple who spent their entire summer arguing in the backyard, according to Martha, and on the other by a row of quaint cypress.

The front door, bordered by polished mosaic squares of glass, sits inside one of four gable roofs. Dark green shutters either side of each stark-white window frame. A smooth path snaking between neatly-fringed grass, a hierarchy of tiny bushes growing greener and greener the closer they draw to the front steps.

Come in through the back, she’d said. Gate will be open. We’ll be in the yard.

Joel makes some quiet remark just to you about how perfect the house looks. The red brick and marengo tile. How much effort gone into polishing the front, only to tell you to use the back entry. ‘s only for looking, he decides, and then offers his hand to pull you from the Rolls.

He bends over the car, hand flat on the roof, and calls back to Rand. “Do me a favor – don’t go far. Just –” he jerks his head in your direction, “– just in case.”

When he straightens up and the car purrs off, you shake your head. “I’m fine,” you whisper, and he hooks two fingers around the string of the giftbag, taking it from your grasp.

He replaces it with his hand, his huge palm against yours. “I know,” he mutters, glancing down the drive, “but it’s an excuse for when I get sick of Alan ‘n all his damn friends.”

“Henry,” you remind him.

He tosses you a half-second look, smirk scrawled on his lips. He knows.

She’s waiting for you by the French doors when you arrive – Martha. Glass of sparkling champagne in each hand. Your fingers slip free from Joel’s before you’ve even rounded the corner.

“Saw the car pull up,” she tells you, leaning to let Joel kiss her cheek. “Here,” she hands you a glass, then one to Joel, “and here.”

You sip at the bubbling drink, letting the sharp fizz assault your tongue. Letting the feeling wash down your throat, stinging and bitter. Joel seems to swallow his just fine.

He swings the bag in her direction, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Just a little somethin’ from the two of us.”

You frown, holding a hand up to shield your eyes from sunlight too faint to cause the stiffness of your face and the drawn string of your brows. Where is Deb? And her two sons? And their shared gift? Isn’t it totally platonic and professional after all, to sign something from you and Joel?

Martha’s hands clasp. She reaches gleefully for the bag, smiling at the striped pattern. “I got no idea where he is. Last I saw, they were all headin’ up to his room. Some zombie game on his PlayStation. He promises me they ain’t playin’ the R-rated version.”

“That’s alright,” Joel says, “I believe ‘im.” He leans closer, a weight apparent at the small of your back. It shocks like a surge of electricity up your spine, hurts like a sudden muscle spasm. And then it soothes the pain, his thumb rubbing delicately. “’s a nice place,” he tells Martha.

She feigns disbelief. “Well, thank you, Mr. Miller, C-E-O,” she sings, and then, cocking an eyebrow, “y’all want a tour?”

You both nod politely, following her towards the kitchen doors. Joel nods towards a table by the barbecue – an island amongst a sea of candy and pastries, chopped fruit and bowls of nuts: a two-tiered, sky-blue cake. The name Henry piped in red icing – the letters swirling much like a birthday card you once read in a house on Maple Street.

“Nice little cake for Alan,” Joel mutters, squeezing your waist.

A stolen laugh shudders from your lips; the two of you snicker together, and despite your best attempts to cover your grin with your champagne flute, Martha spots you.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, sidling back over.

“Martha,” you clear your throat, “would you do me a favor?”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Would you please tell Joel your son’s name?”

She looks at you blankly. Blinks between you and the man at your side, both staring back expectantly. But her stone-set expression begins to crack, the lines deepening around her mouth.

“As in,” you clarify, “his real name. Not Alan.”

She makes to reply when the swish-thud of a window opening interrupts, the prepubescent bellow of an almost-teen from overhead.

“Mom!” Henry calls, his dark head of curls and long, boyish arms dangling over the sill.

Martha glares up at him. “What have I told you about hangin’ from there” she yells, fists propped on her hips. “What is it?”

“Mike brought Blood Cry III; can we play it?”

She shakes her head indignantly. “I have told you – how many times? No!” She holds her hands out in apology to you and Joel, and then scuttles off into the kitchen. “Go explore,” she waves, “I trust ya!”

Joel wordlessly takes your hand, leading you in Martha’s wake through the kitchen to the living room: its navy walls and white paneling, bookshelves spanning the entire length of one wall, and a pale-brick fireplace centering two leather couches. Very pristine, very perfect. Very Martha.

You amble around, slowing in front of the mantelpiece above which a gallery of framed photos hangs. Henry as a toddler on a green trike; Martha’s stepdaughter and her kid; Alan on a golfing trip. Your eyes jump from plump cheeks to missing teeth, sunhats and Thanksgiving meals, until they land on a photo of Martha and Alan on their wedding day – her veil pinned neatly into a permed updo, her puffy-sleeved dress and the lemon bouquet spilling from her hands.

Joel’s shoulder brushes against your own, his eye journeying across the photos, too. “Ha,” he tosses a finger towards the wedding photo, “nineties Martha. Nice hair, huh?”

You smile, lazily swatting his arm. “She looks beautiful. They seem happy.”

Joel agrees. “Wonder what their first dance song was.”

“I bet it was something classy. Sinatra or something. Martha wouldn’t be breaking the marriage in to anything cheesy, that’s for sure.”

He laughs, spinning off towards the dining room. “You ever thought about what you’d pick?”

You hesitate, rounding the table on the opposite side. “Uh…no. Not really.”

“Not your thing? Marriage.”

You chance a glance at him over a vase of lilies in the center of the mahogany table. The smell twists towards you, leering as it coats your skin and your clothes and the back of your throat in a sickly film that makes your head spin. “I guess not. I’ve never – Not since…”

He nods. He knows. “That’s fair,” he says, hands finding his pockets. The idea of Blake – his name, his shaking hands, the tiny box in his suit pocket – the thought of those images flitting through Joel’s brain pinches the air from your lungs.

You watch the silhouette of him as it crosses over the bay window, looking out onto the trimmed grass and smooth asphalt street. Something cracks deep in your chest. Something begins to unbind.

“What would yours be?” you ask him, and he turns.

“Depends,” he shrugs, “on when I’m gettin’ married or not. Makes no difference to me.”

You bypass the point he’s making. Turn away from it like you would a shadow in the night. “If you were,” you insist, “what would you pick?”

He nears you, never breaking your stare. His confident matches your nervous, his steady gaze on your shy. “Somethin’ special to me ‘n her. An our song kinda thing.” And then, as he brushes deliberately by your shoulder to head for the stairs, “AC/DC or som’.”

Your heels stick like they did that night in the dive bar. Ears hurt with a ringing loud enough to blur the edges of your vision. Your skin feels the same hot – only, not from the crowded room you’re in, or the mix of alcohol and sweat and something akin to lust seeping through your pores.

You stare fixedly at the view from the bay window, the perfect little cul-de-sac with its perfectly smooth roads; perfect for kids learning to ride their first bikes, perfect for couples wandering arm in arm, perfect for angry fathers taking off in cars packed with belongings.

When you were a kid, buckled into the back of your dad’s car, you used to fight sleep to watch the moon race you home. Her white glow surviving being split over and over again by the trees you’d whip past. Your eyes would flit from hers to the windscreen, watching the road up ahead as it threatened to twist and turn. No matter how fast you thought your dad must be driving, no matter which direction he turned – every time you looked for her, there she’d be.

It makes sense now. The notion of staying. Occupying somewhere in space or in time, and forgetting how to leave. Forgetting how to try. Forever fixed there, glowing in a brilliant melancholy, singing to nobody in the dark expanse of the sky. Waiting for the sun to make her return. Just waiting waiting waiting.

You – the moon, and your sky – that fucking driveway. The Toyota, the rust on its underside so bitter you could taste it like blood on your tongue. Searching all over for the scraps of yourself, the pieces he tore away as he fled: veins tangled around spokes, severed fingers tinged crimson and hooked around the steering wheel. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.

And then, the sun – some sharp-suited, quick-witted Texan; enough charm and ease to lift himself over the horizon, to give you something other than the glimmer in your own tears to reflect.

The moon stares down at you now as you sit, perched on your balcony. Your knees tucked under your chin, watching two cats wrestle down on the street below. It’s just gone two; Joel’s in bed fast asleep. You slipped from his grasp and crept out of your room, a blanket over your shoulders, and disappeared between the sheer curtains. Your chest tight, your breathing short.

It keeps happening, that thing from Paris. Your head begins to spin, your voice withers to nothing. Your legs push you to your feet and force you to flee, though you’ve still to figure out where to or what from. All you know is that blue-eyed stare of your ex-fiancé has been wiped, replaced by the dusted beard of your boss instead. The plastic ring between his fingers. The creaking leather of his office chair.

Those same four words keep circling your head, replaying on a loop between your ears: why did he lie why did he lie why did he lie. Like white noise droning around your skull, bubbling nausea in the pit of your stomach. No, darlin’. Why would I lie to you?

Why did you lie to me?

Why did he do any of it? Take you to Paris, let you meet his client. Why has he been sleeping with you, treating you like some kind of girlfriend? The word plucks goosepimples all over your body. His body around yours at Aspen Heights – what you wanted so badly to believe was endearment, was comfortability and generosity, now feels like territory-marking. Feels like the white-knuckled tightening of a leash in his wide fist.

The leaves of the trees across the street tremble, lit luminous green by the 7-Eleven sign they fringe. You watch as two men swagger out of the store; their chatter drowned by the buzzing of the fluorescent sign. They split off with a quick handshake at the curb, disappearing into two different cars, driving off in two different directions.

You sniff. Some skunky smell hangs low in the air. So thick that you can feel it coating your lungs from the inside out. You sink back into your chair, push your fingers into your eyes until you’re watching a mirage of stars pull across your vision. Blow a cracked, nervous breath into the sky. Slip your nose beneath the collar of your tee.

Joel’s tee, which pools in the dip between your stomach and thighs. You suck his scent in like one hit of some intoxicating drug, for every three hits of clean air. Just seeing you through. Pretending there’s no addiction there.

But fuck, if you’re not screwed. One half of you holding back on mentioning the email because – what the fuck do you even say? How do you begin to ask him about it? How do you approach the topic, without prefacing it with feelings you’re too afraid to admit even to yourself?

And the other half – for fear of what you might cause. What you might make him do. For the pure, cut-throat fear that he’ll become the third in a list of men to just – leave. To let you down, to let you go. Change between couch cushions. Wild flowers torn from the earth’s scalp.

Then, the fracturing realization that you don’t want him to go. That you’re used to him, now, in a way you never were with your dad or with Blake. Your dad – who would choose poker night over parents’ night. Who would choose a drink with his buddies over a movie with you and your mom.

Or Blake – who would schedule sex on the nights he figured he’d have enough energy to fuck you until at least he came, and would buy you chrysanthemums on your birthday even long after you’d told him you were pretty sure you were allergic.

And then there’s Joel. Joel fucking Miller. Who turned up at your door less than thirty minutes after Martha told him you were sick. Who said in the car ride to her house earlier, Tell me your favorite flower.

Why? you asked.

Just so I know.

Joel – who has never asked anything more than you’ve chosen to tell him about your father, but whose face still screws into an angry grimace anytime he’s forced to think of him. Who reaches out to adjust the broken heart around your neck, slip the clip back to your nape without you asking Who offers you the last slice of pizza, and when you refuse, compromises by splitting it. Giving you the bigger half.

Joel – with whom sex feels like a form of communication: Here are all the things I don’t know how to say, yet. Yet yet yet. A conversation, each movement deliberate; each nip and lick and bite weighted with purpose and meaning. It lives under your nails, behind your teeth. Here – I don’t know what else to do with all this longing.

Joel – who has not only set every foot right, but has carved his own path through your heart. Explored the caves himself, a lonely lamp hanging from his fist as he carefully, gently, politely weaved his way through a jungle of valves and tissue, monsters and darkness, slowly winding his way to the center.

Joel. Who has never let you down. Until that fucking email.

A 7-Eleven employee, some scrawny kid with a mop of black hair and a polo hanging from his skeleton, drags a cloth in wide circles on the inside of the windows. He swipes his forehead along his wrist, thick tresses disturbed, and stares out at the empty street.

You blink twice, and a figure materializes at your balcony door.

“Baby?”

“Jesus!”

“Woah, woah. Easy – ‘s just me.” The pale drapes surrender to his wide frame, letting him pass. “Sorry, pretty girl. You okay?”

“You scared the crap outta me.”

Joel bends before you, a sweet little chuckle in his throat, and presses a warm kiss to your forehead. You lift your chin, letting your eyes close over and your thoughts melt away on his lips. He pulls the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

“What are you doin’ out here at this time of night?”

You shrug as he settles into the wireframe chair opposite. Groans as he leans back. His wide chest constricted by a tight, gray hoodie splattered with paint.

“Just can’t sleep. Nice hoodie.”

His eyes dip to the mounds of your chest under plain cotton, the blanket slack around your breasts. “Someone stole my T-shirt. Stole somethin’ of hers back. Why can’t you sleep? You hurting?”

Yeah. “No. Just – not tired enough, I guess.”

“You want company?”

Not really. “Sure.”

He laces his fingers over his stomach as he settles back, studies you as your gaze skims the street below. He knows you’re lying. But it’s two a.m., and you’re weeks into an affair that you’re both pretty sure has gone past the point of no return, and so, voice plain, he asks, “What’s on your mind, angel?”

“How d’you know there’s something on my mind?”

“There’s always something on your mind. It’s you.” And then, readjusting in his seat, “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You scrunch your nose with a sniff. Pull your arms inside the sleeves of his shirt and cross them under your breasts. “Your dad,” you say, locking eyes with him.

Joel lets it hang for all of three seconds. “My dad?” His face curls into a perplexed smirk, jaw tilting. He thinks you’re so fucking adorable, or maybe you think he is, and you’re not sure which one scares you more.

You laugh, chest lightening disobediently. It felt more comfortable when you couldn’t breathe. “What he did,” you explain.

“What he did,” Joel repeats, lifting his chin. Like a dog, sniffing out the truth. Something concealed in your fist.

So you unfold your fingers, holding it out in the palm of your hand: “Do you think he would’ve done it, still, if he knew what would happen?”

And then he really shakes off the humor. Sits forward, elbows leaning on his bare thighs. “What’re you talkin’ about, pretty girl?”

“Like,” you sigh, “if he knew he would split his entire family in two. You and your mom cut him off; Tommy moved halfway across the country. Was it worth it?”

“To me, or to him?”

You shrug again. He’ll choose the one he wants to answer. You’ll figure him out either way.

“Look,” Joel says, and hooks his fingers under the seat of your chair to pull you closer. He takes your ankles and you stretch your legs out, heels propped in the boxer-clad valley between his legs. A deep breath, hazel eyes pointed upwards like searching the skies for the words, and then: “People want what they want, right? They’ll do whatever they think is necessary to get it. He wanted to cheat, so he did. And he paid the price.”

“He wanted to cheat?”

It seems obvious to him. As though people seek out ways to hurt the ones they’re supposed to love all the damn time. The silver glint of a Labrador’s teeth as he sinks them into his owner’s skin.

Joel nods. “Wanted it badly enough that he did anything.”

“Lied?” you offer.

“Lied, cheated, left. Yeah.”

“And he risked everything.”

His head tips in agreement. “I guess he did. He was a damn idiot, you know? Had a wife who loved him, had two kids. He had the whole world in that house, and he threw it all away.”

“And,” the soles of your feet rest gently on the curve of his stomach, “would that – would it stop you? If you at least knew you were riskin’ something?”

“From cheating?”

“Anything. If you knew what you were risking was everything to you – would it stop you doing what you really wanted?”

His face tightens, brows knit with confusion and something else more difficult to place. “It depends. I wouldn’t risk something like you. I would n–”

“Somethin’ like me?” you interject.

Joel clears his throat. Looks up to the pitch-black sky again. “You…” He sighs. His answer is simple, black-and-white. There’s no way to hide it anymore. “I wouldn’t risk you, no. Not for the world.”

You fall silent. The moon stares down, seeming to melt around you. Her light like two steady arms holding you together, nudging you to ask the last question – the one spiraling around your mind like circling a drain.

Joel squeezes your ankle. “Where are you goin’ with this, baby? Are you asking me if I would cheat on you?”

Your heart jumps. The moon scatters.

Does he fall into the category of people who could cheat on you? Two months ago, he was just your boss. Two months ago, you hadn’t touched him more than a slap after a witty comment, the brushing of fingers as you handed him his morning coffee. But now…now, you’ve kissed his lips to shut him up. You’ve felt him come inside you. You’ve set foot inside his childhood fucking home, for Christ’s sake.

He makes you feel as though your heart is made of glass, delicate and laid bare but safe in his hands. He makes you feel as though a part of you exists outside of your own body – like there’s a piece of your soul wandering the earth by itself, touching base every time his hands are on your hips, his teeth in your neck.

Yeah. Fuck – yeah. He’s someone who could cheat on you. The way that email made you feel – he’s someone who could break your heart.

“I know you wouldn’t cheat on anyone,” you say, voice breaking. “No, I just – I don’t know what counts as a good enough reason to hurt someone you’re supposed to…supposed to love.”

Joel sits back in his chair again, the frame creaking under the weight of him. He reckons he gets it, now. You reckon he’s still wrong. “Come here,” he says, fingers flicking.

“What?”

He leans forward, takes your waist in his hands and pulls you from your chair into his lap, curling you up between his thighs. Safe. Protected by the shell of his body, protected by everything except from the thing scaring you most: the quickening of his heartbeat when you settle against it.

Your head slots under the curve of his chin, his voice a deep rumble over your skull.

“Your dad,” his chest swells, “he did what he did because he wanted to do it. Wanted it badly enough that he gave up you and your mom. And there wasn’t nothin’ you or her could’ve done to stop him, or convince him otherwise. You hear me?”

You turn into his neck, letting your tears fall hidden from view of streetlight or moonlight. You feel fucking tiny – a kid again, sat in a grownup’s lap, asking a never-ending series of why questions. Then, why did he do it? Why did he leave? Why are you staying? Why did you lie to me?

Joel presses his lips to your head, shushing you quietly, his body rocking back and forth like a boat on light waves. When he hears you sniffling, he holds you closer. Tighter. Your heart melds to your chest wall, desperate to seek his out. The hoodie he’s wearing smells like you, smells like him, smells like the chemicals of paint and the poison of love.

“It wasn’t your fault, darlin’, none of it.”

His arm hooked over your bare knees, the cotton keeping you warm. The other around your back, keeping you whole. You unstick yourself from his embrace, pulling your body straight until you’re straddling his lap, face to face with him in the light.

He looks up at you, almost afraid to blink. Afraid to lose sight of you at all. Your thighs lean heavily against his, your bodies locked together. You link your arms over his shoulders, anchor yourself to him as though the storm in your mind might sweep you away. And in the glimmer of light in his eye, the dazzling bulb of a lighthouse – you see the reflection of yourself.

Joel notices the shift in your expression. Holds you by the hips, follows the turn of your head. “You okay?” he asks, and you look down, avoiding his eye.

Glowing brilliant and lonely, blinking slowly. Your towering silhouette and caged-glass top. Drawing ships nearer just to ward them off when they pull too close. When they begin to notice the jagged shape of your shoreline, the ugly mess of your soul. Casting a blinding light on them, warning them to flee. And he didn’t fucking listen.

He docked anyways. Drew up on the beach, pulled himself into your body time and time again. You kept moving, kept warning him with each flicker of light, kept daring him to leave. And he never did. And there are pieces of you now living in him because of it, pieces you don’t understand how to take back. All you know, all you’ve ever known about Joel, is –

Your body sinks, hips lowering until you’re sure you’ve proven yourself right.

A stubborn weight between his legs. Not quite as hard as you’ve felt him before, not quite as heavy, but – a shape which sends a hot hiss between his teeth when you move over it, when the thin strip of your underwear courses over the thin cloth of his.

“P-retty girl,” Joel says, a groan seeping from the corners of his lips. A groan he holds onto with his molars, letting it snap like elastic when your hips circle again.

A weight as stubborn as the need slowly swirling in your chest. And pulled up into the cyclone are those same words: It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t nothin’ you could’ve done to stop him. Why did you lie to me? It wasn’t your fault.

It hits you at once, the sudden realization that you’re lighter than you were before you first touched one another – really touched one another. Parts of you missing, passed over gladly the second his hand reached for them. The taste of you behind his lip, gums absorbing you like nicotine.

And you’re kissing him, your lips harsh against his, his stubble hurting your skin. Your tongue seeking out those parts of yourself. No. You don’t have me anymore. I’m taking me back.

“Hey,” Joel whispers into your mouth, steadying your hips. He pulls back and holds you still. “Why don’t we slow down? It’s late, you ain’t feeling too good –”

“I feel fine. I want to do it.” You lick again between his lips though he doesn’t budge; your attempts to move again, ineffective. “Joel.”

“It’s been a long day, you’re tired. Work in the mornin’, baby, I just don’t think we oughta –”

“You don’t wanna fuck me?”

He pauses, his tongue between his teeth. His brows pinch, almost painfully. “That is not what this is, ‘n you know it. I can see how tired you are – you ain’t even slept yet.”

“I don’t care. I want you to –”

His voice lifts to something you’ve only heard within the four walls of his office. Like chiding one of his guys, like snapping back at their red ties and crumpled collars. “I know what you want me to do. I just think we should go back to bed.”

“’n what if I don’t want to go back to bed?”

Joel sighs, looking out across the street. His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek.

“I don’t get what the problem is,” you complain, still holding onto his shoulders. “You’ve fucked me in public before.”

“It ain’t that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Why don’t you go grab a sketchbook or something? Show me some of this artwork you been promisin’ since Paris?”

You blink back at him, watching the lighthouse swirl. The black waves begin to carry him off, sweep him from your view. “Maybe some other time,” you mumble, pushing yourself off of his lap.

Joel watches you, defeated. Keeps ahold of your hand when you stand between his knees. He swings your interlocked fingers gently. “Can you…can you tell me what’s wrong? Do you know?”

Your lungs pull in a deep breath, your shoulders rolling. “Same thing as always, I guess. Let’s just go back to bed.”

“Wait, pretty girl,” he tugs on your hand, reeling you back in, “waitwaitwait.” And then he’s standing, enclosing you in his arms again, asking, “What can I do to fix it?”

That same shrug. Tired. Deflated. Terrified. “If I only knew.”

You wait for Joel to move first, a sigh falling from his lips as he pulls the sheer curtains back, taking you by the hand and ushering you between. He follows your lead back into your apartment, sliding the door closed behind.

The living room is flattened by a gray silence, the liminal night swallowing up the air. Joel’s hand comes to rest at the nape of your neck, and when you turn to him, he says, “You wanna know if he thought it was worth it?”

You pause, fingers playing with the hem of his tee at your thighs.

He’s close enough that you can feel the heat near enough sizzling from his body. The right side of his face is shrouded in darkness; the chalky wash of streetlight painting the left. “My dad.”

You swallow hard, blinking in the shadow cast by his tall figure. The light clings wearily to his beard.

“She left him after two weeks. Went back to her husband. My dad died alone in an empty four-bed in Rosedale. You tell me.”

And then he pats the small of your back, takes you back through to bed – where you let him fall asleep on your chest, listening to make sure your fractured heart is still beating.

Joel Miller is in your shower. For the second time this weekend.

He’s not fucking you, not holding you against the rough tile wall as his cock draws come and blood and tears from your body. He’s not wrapping a towel around you, handing you a fresh tampon, kissing the parts of your skin still alight from your orgasm.

He’s just showering, before work. Using your peach-scented soap, pushing suds under his arms, over his stomach, between his legs. Lathering your shampoo like treacle between his palms, hair slick and foamy white between his fingers. Fixing the head so that his height fits under the stream of water, turning the knobs until it’s as hot as he likes it.

You’re lying across your bed, suffocating in the smell of his side and pretending none of it’s really happening. Face buried in his pillow, waiting for the intoxication to throw you under or wipe your mind clean or maybe just cut the air supply from your lungs completely. Whichever’s quickest.

The bathroom door opens; the sound of footsteps padding over to you. His weight sinks into the bed by your hip, then hovers over your back. His nose, still steamy and damp from the shower, nuzzles into the spot behind your ear. His lips leave a wet trail down your neck.

“You need another day?” Joel asks, kissing.

“I’m good,” the cotton absorbs the nervous edge of your voice, “just coming.”

“Stay home if you want, angel,” he says, hands roaming south to hold your waist. Like warning the pain, tempting it to show back up. See what he does about it. “I gotta go take this shareholders meeting, but I can come back as soon as it’s done.”

“Nah,” you groan, pushing your heavy frame up. Joel’s grip slackens. “I need the distraction, I think.”

He sits back, smiling dumbly when you straighten. His tongue runs along his teeth.

“You can use my toothbrush,” you mutter, heel of your palm wiping sleep from your eye.

“Hm?” He’s fixing the mess of your hair. Brushing one side flat, then the other; leaning back and forth with this dumb, half-there smile on his face. And your chest heaves, and you almost surrender to the impulse to throw yourself into his arms, almost lean into his cupped hands and burning caresses.

“I owe you. From Paris. You can use it, just this once.”

He scoffs. “I won’t use your toothbrush, darlin’. It’s alright.”

But you’re indignant. You already have every other part of me, don’t you? What’s one more? Just fucking –

“– use it. I swear I don’t mind.”

Joel’s head tilts, conceding. “Alright. Come get ready, then.”

Martha’s at her desk when the two of you wander back into the office. “Wait!” she calls, clicking around her desk as you pass by. She twirls a blue envelope between two glittery nails, holds it out to you.

Joel takes it, examining the childish scrawling of your names. “Nice, but – your calligraphy needs a little practice, Martha.”

“Hilarious,” she drones, sitting back against the desk.

You drift over to your own, dropping your back over the back of your chair, and shrug the coat from your shoulders.

Joel’s voice draws nearer as he speaks. “He have a good time?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Martha replies, and Joel sits the card from Henry by your monitor, “barely saw ‘im the entire day. Thanks for comin’. For his gift, too – y’all really…You ain’t gotta do that.”

“Was all my idea, wasn’t it?” Joel asks, smirking to you.

An airy laugh pushes from your chest, loose with nerves. “Som’ like that. Glad he had a nice birthday.”

Joel saunters back toward his office, hands in his pockets. Fucking casual, like the world isn’t crumbling beneath your feet. Like the walls aren’t closing in, the sky lowering by the hour, the sun being steadily eclipsed minute by minute. He nudges the door closed with his foot, leaving you, Martha, and an awkward mist of realization between you.

“Your idea,” she muses, once you’ve plucked up enough courage to face her again.

You pick up Henry’s card, staring at the smudged handwriting to mask the horror peeling its way across your face. “Thought it was easier that way, y’know?” You gulp. “Don’t make it into anythin’.”

She grunts, something shaped like Ha. Her arms cross over her body, her eyes flitting between Joel’s office and you. “I sure as hell don’t remember me ‘n Alan ever doing something like that before it meant anythin’.”

“What are you saying it means?” you ask, rhetorically, dryly – a little meaner than you want it to sound. “What’s…?”

Her plucked eyebrows lift, forehead creasing. “Nothing, sweet. I’m just saying – you two are close, now. It’s nice.”

“We were always close.”

She holds her finger up. “Uh, no. Not turn up at my son’s birthday party together, leave together, then turn up at work the next day also together close.” Her eyes narrow, and you almost believe she might’ve been hidden between the trees last night – hell, for a second, you believe she might’ve been that scrawny kid wiping down the windows of 7-Eleven.

“I’m just saying,” she continues, when your throat closes around your nothing answer, “if something’s happening, I’m rooting for it.”

It shoots from your jaw like a bullet. “Nothing’s happening.”

Martha’s just as quick. “Okay,” she says, sweet and light. Breezy.

And then she shuffles back to her chair, resumes focus on some email. Twists the dial on her radio and fill the tense silence in the office with some smooth seventies song which lifts the hairs on the back of your neck the same way it did in that Parisian hotel. The dark suite, his eyes black and seeking. His hands on your body like he knew every curve and dip already.

Didn’t you believe that he might? That his hands were sculpted to fit the space below your ribcage? The plush cushion of flesh above your hips. The hinge of your jaw between his fingers.

Didn’t you think, for one fleeting moment, that maybe he was made just for you? As if you were so fucking lucky. As if anyone might stick around long enough to earn that label. Yours.

You settle back into your chair. The bubble writing on the front of the card stares menacingly back at you, the shapes seeming to swell and shrink in size the longer you stare at them. A bad trip, you think, this whole thing is just a bad trip. I’m gonna sober up any second, and I’m gonna be in bed, still dizzy after that night at the bar.

And none of it’s gonna be real. It’s not fucking real.

But then – lying on the opposite side of your computer, delicate and tiny, sparkling in the sunlight from over your shoulder: your ring. Your ruby ring, two euros in a gumball machine by the Seine. Like it’s winking at you, the accent rhinestones a taunting smirk. And the sight of it slings a thin wire around your heart, tight tight tightens until you’re sure you feel the tissue slice in half.

You take the ring in two shaking fingers, eyes bleary with sleep and salt. Blinking the dispersed light away, red rays bleeding all over your vision as you tilt the plastic. Joel’s voice muffles against his office door, like fists echoing against the flimsy walls of your little daydream. Time’s up. Hand him back over. It’s not fucking real anymore.

You roll the prize back onto your desk, letting it scatter shards of ruby until it hits the keyboard, the rattle echoing around your ears as you pace over to his office door. Your knuckles drum once, twice, three times against the wood before he opens it, and then he’s –

Staring down at you, breath shallow between slack lips. And he reads it all over your face, the panic and the words swimming around the tears in your eyes, and he steps back, and you step forward, and then the door’s closing again, and you’re settling against the arm of his couch.

“Ken? Hey, Ken?” Joel strides back over to his desk, hastily reaching for the phone. The voice from the receiver doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow. “Ken. Can I –? Jesus Christ.” He lifts the handset and drops it less than a second later, cutting Ken’s fucking droning, cutting the only sound in the room, cutting your blood short in your veins.

And then – “Alright. Talk to me.”

You don’t reply. He seems to tense up. Moves almost robotically over to you, lifts his hands to hold your shoulders. And when you lift yours to push him away, he almost flinches.

“Baby.”

Your jaw shakes once. You wrap your arms around yourself, squeezing the breath from your lungs.

“You’ve been actin’ off since yesterday,” he mutters, giving you some space. He’s moving slow, like he’s afraid you might lunge for him. “You gotta tell me. You’re scaring me, now.”

You haul your gaze from his open arms, his broad chest, the idea of letting him pull you in and calm you down. Your eyes land on his monitor. The text of that email flashes before you again. And your shell hardens.

“Is there anything you wanna tell me?” you ask, staring at the Apple logo. Your voice sounds timid, sounds so little that you swear you see Joel catch the words as though they’re made of glass.

His head tilts. His eyes narrow. It’s genuine confusion, you think. The penny hasn’t dropped yet. “…What?”

It pisses you off. Seems to shatter that glass into fifty angry shapes, brittle and sharp. The shards cut like a knife through the air between you. “Nothing you think I oughta know?”

He shakes his head slowly. “No, baby, I don’t…”

Your glare finally lands directly on him. Piercing straight into his eyes. But your jaw locks shut around the words.

“What the hell are you about to accuse me of?” Joel asks, mirroring your stance. Pulling his arms over his chest, jaw tight. “Cheating on you?”

Your chest jumps with a tiny laugh. “Why would I accuse you of cheating on me?”

“Sure sounded like that’s what you were thinkin’ last night.”

“No. I don’t think you’re cheating on me.”

“Then what is it?”

The gun fires. Gates open. Thunder rumbles. A fire lights in your stomach, blazing through your entire body.

“When were you planning on telling me about Jean-Marc?”

He goes quiet. Still. Realizes exactly what you mean in almost an instant. “How did you…? Where did you –?”

“I saw the email. On Friday. Gave me your phone to look for Alan’s Twelfth fucking Birthday, didn’t you?”

His face drops; a broken sigh falls from his lips. He looks up to the ceiling, something of a disbelieving, disappointed, fucking dismayed laugh loose between his jaw. “I wasn’t,” he eventually concedes.

“You weren’t?”

“No.”

You can’t believe him. You actually can’t believe him. Fists balling to hold your nerve, to hold the tremble in your voice steady, you ask, “Why?”

Joel’s body twists, rolls like some awkward wave as he readjusts, searches the surrounding room for an explanation. “There’s – there are a number of reasons why.”

“Start with the first one.”

“Alright.” He grips the wooden desk either side of his hips. Meets your stare, and it’s almost fucking admirable, the bravery with which he’s walking into this. You don’t scare him at all, not yet, anyway. Not even in the midst of a standoff in his office – guns loaded, eyes never blinking.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and then lifts his arm, waving his palm like he’s swatting the image of the Frenchman away. “He’s…He freaks me the hell out.”

“He freaks you out,” you repeat, voice flat. “Really, Joel? Big guy like you?”

You can’t help yourself. This is so fucking insane, it’s laughable. You’re like a snake shooting sharp shots at the ankles of a bear – and it’s too easy to take jabs when you’re still in disbelief at what’s fast turning out to be the truth.

“He’s sleazy, and inappropriate, and he doesn’t respect boundaries.” He counts them with three steady fingers. “Not mine, certainly not yours. I don’t like him, darlin’.”

“You like him enough to go have two meals with him in one weekend. Fly all the way to fuckin’ France for ‘im.”

“That was business. At least, the lunch was. The breakfast was a mistake.”

“What’s the second reason, Joel?”

He licks his lips. You can’t tell if it’s anxiety or anger. “You’re too good at your job. I didn’t wanna lose you.”

It’s simple enough. It’s more believable than six-foot-two Joel being afraid of five-foot-two Jean-Marc. You accept it a lot quicker.

“Any more?”

His expression drops. Yeah. There’s one more. And he doesn’t know how to say it.

“Joel.”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Got that one.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. Expression unmoving. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

You suck in a deep breath, chest wobbling as your lungs fill. The snake retreats from the bear, jaw slackening. Your eyes sting, Joel’s figure blurs a little, and then you rein it back in.

“I didn’t want you to go. That’s all,” he offers, plainly. “Just…wanted you to stay here. With me.”

“’n what if I wanted to leave?”

“Then…” Joel’s arms lift again, gesturing to nothing, “…then we’ll work something out.”

You lift your chin, some sick expression pushing your eyebrows up. “We’ll work something out?”

He nods.

“Who’s we?”

And it’s the first time you see him falter. The first time he has to catch himself. “You said it yourself,” he says, “you ‘n me. This.”

You shake your head. No no no no. Not this. Not now. The snake coils up, preparing to strike again. “What, us sleeping together?”

“That’s…What?”

“You don’t think there are plenty other women you could be sleeping with here, ‘n plenty other men I could be sleeping with over there? You really want me to stay here just so you got someone to fuck?”

Joel’s lips fall apart. His grip loosens on the desk. “That’s all this is to you?”

“Uh, yeah. Last time I checked.”

You don’t believe yourself. You know you don’t. You don’t believe a fucking word being tossed out of your mouth. You’re being an asshole, deliberately being a dick to him, and you can’t stop. There’s a wall being built at rapid pace, shutting him out. Shutting you in. Bricks made of angry words, each one separating you a little more, hiding you from his view.

And then his mouth closes. Lips form a thin line. Brows lower, blocking any of the light you’re so used to seeing from his eyes. Dark, cloudy, angry. “Got it,” he snaps. “Anything else?”

“Huh?”

“Do you need anything else? Or are you just in here to piss me off?”

You lift from the couch, arms loose, hitting your hips with a slap. “Fuck off, Joel.”

“Oh,” he nods, “right. Fuck off, yeah. Keep goin’, baby. Tire yourself out. ‘s all you’ve been doin’, ain’t it? All this time? All you’ve been using me for?”

Good. It’s good. You want him to argue back. You want him to hate you as much as you hate yourself right now. You want to see the bear’s claws; make all the hurt you’re dragging up through yourself, just to dish at him, worthwhile.

“You know what?”

“What?” he spits.

“I knew you were gonna do something like this, eventually. I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

Joel follows suit, pushing himself off the desk in one motion, and then the pair of you are chest to chest, squaring up to one another atop his five-thousand-dollar rug. “You knew what?”

“Knew there was something about him. Knew you couldn’t stand him. And this is why, right? All ‘cause he wanted to hire me?”

He turns away and laughs, almost recognizable as the same laugh you could draw from him with a silly look on your face – except sharper, colder. “Not even close,” he says, reeling back in. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you? The way he talked to you? About you?”

“Of course I saw it, Joel, I’m not fucking stupid.”

“Then use your good sense ‘n catch up, baby. You’re right: you’re not fuckin’ stupid. You were like fresh meat to him, and what? You reckon I should’ve let him just – sink his teeth deeper? Really?”

It lights something in the back of your mind; a memory flickers to life. Loops like a static radio message through your ears. “Right,” you nod, “right. Because you don’t like other people’s hands on things that belong to you, do you?”

His head jerks back, face warped with confusion and…disgust. “The hell are you talkin’ about?” he demands, voice muscled with anger.

“Martha said it once. You don’t like people playing with your toys, or whatever.”

And that seems to hit him low in the stomach. Seems to knock the wind from him.

“Are you kidding me?” he asks, and you swear his breath cuts in his throat. “That’s what you think?”

No, you think, it’s not. You know him better than that. But admitting that you know him better than to use you as some little plaything – something he had any control over, some accessory to wear on his arm – would mean admitting that the problem lies elsewhere. Lies with you.

And that’s not something you’re prepared to do right now, either.

Maybe before you found that email. Before you found out he’d been keeping you on some invisible leash. Maybe when he had you in his arms, kissing you so soft you thought you might die right then and not even notice.

Maybe when he looked at you, twirling chopsticks clumsily in his fingers, face lighting in a grin when you giggled at him – and three words floated through your head. Dared to dance over the tip of your tongue before you caught them and hissed, What the fuck are you doing here?

But – no. It’s all fucked up now. And you can’t break the tightness in your jaw to admit any different.

“You don’t think there’s a chance I actually care about you? That I – Jesus, that I respect you? Are you this goddamn hellbent on convincing yourself that everyone’s out to hurt you?”

“Joel,” your voice says, and it’s not you controlling it. Some gravely, pained thing. A shriveled part of yourself, cowering from the light. You’re recoiling, physically backing up from him.

“Darlin’, I can’t –” He reaches for your wrist.

You whip it away. “Stop.”

“I am trying to understand you,” he pleads. “I’m tryin’ to figure you out. Why won’t you let me –?”

“I don’t want you to.”

A laugh ejects from his throat and plummets straight to the floor. “Yes, you do,” he says. “You don’t do everything we’ve done unless you’re in it.”

“In it?” you seethe. “In what? What are we in?” You pinch your fingers: air quotations around the words, or possible claws digging four more wounds into the same chest you wept into last night.

Your head shakes rapidly as you speak. “We were just sleeping together. We were just having sex. That’s all. We were just having sex,” you repeat under your breath.

“I wasn’t,” Joel says. Matter-of-fact. Like reading from a contract. He takes a deep breath, and then repeats, “I wasn’t.”

The words splinter painfully from your tongue. “Well, I was.”

And though your eyes are pinned to the buttons of his shirt, though his expression sits just too north for you to see the way his face pulls – you notice his head lift. Know that there are creases digging between his brows at the same rate cracks appear across his heart. You feel the warmth of his gaze slowly cooling. Freezing over.

“I’m sorry,” he says, holding a shaky palm out. The fear begins to sink in, plunging through ice water. He’s beginning to bargain. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should’ve, I should’ve told you ev–”

Your body moves as the words ricochet, refusing to let him finish his plea. “Glad we got that cleared up, Joel,” you say, near-leaping for the door.

But he’s faster. He steps in front of you, blocking your exit path. “Please hear me out. Please listen to me.”

Your body writhes under his gaze, twists like some little creature under a microscope. He waits for your go ahead before he continues. You toss your head, acquiescing.

“I just – I couldn’t stomach it. I couldn’t sleep at night thinkin’, what if you went for it? What if he managed to swindle you into taking him on? I wanted to get you the hell outta that penthouse the second he laid eyes on you.”

“So why take me in the first place?”

Joel scoffs. “I ain’t in control of you, baby! You had to figure him out on your own – and I thought you had. Christ, one minute you want me to step back ‘n let you make up your own mind, next you’re askin’ me why I took you somewhere? The hell am I supposed to do here?”

Read my mind. Don’t let him near me. Don’t let me go.

And at the same time –

Mind your fucking business. Let me make my own decisions. Keep your hands off me.

The truth is: you want him to go back in time. Take you back with him. Never touch you, never look at you any more than to ask for a coffee, or thank you for fixing up his office. Never make your heart skip that first beat, never set your skin on fire with that look in his eyes.

You want him to go back in time, and undo every knot he ever tied in your body. Let go of every string of your heart he has his fist around, every nerve which undoubtedly belongs to him, now.

Undo it all, so you might have a half-decent reason to hate him.

In the deepest, darkest parts of yourself, echoing around the caves you were always too frightened to explore yourself – you want him to tell you why he kept it from you. The real reason. And you want him to grab your wrist and pull you back into the room, back into his arms, when you inevitably flee at the sound of his reasoning.

Because you fucking know why he didn’t tell you. It’s scrawled on his face right now. And even though Jean-Marc is all of those things – sleazy, inappropriate, a scumbag in thousand-euro moccasins – that only makes up for part of the reason.

There’s a bigger piece to the puzzle, and you both know what it is, only neither of you will turn to face it. You’re simply cast in its shadow, playing blind chess under the silhouette of something you both refuse to acknowledge.

“You’re supposed to be my boss, and nothing else.”

He just stares at you. As if he’s waiting for you to say, Kidding! and laugh. As if he’s waiting for what you really mean to shove what you just said out of the way and tell the truth. It hurts all the more.

After a few seconds of awful silence, his breath falls from his lips in the form of a sigh, staggered with a laugh of disbelief. “I don’t…I don’t get it.”

But you’re tired now. You feel drained. You’ve less fight, energy gone to waste before you could make it to the real contest. Kicking his door down and yelling at him over Jean-Marc was the pregame show.

“What don’t you get?” you whisper, slumping back against the arm of the couch.

His answer terrifies you more than anything.

“You.”

You sigh, eyes falling closed in time with the drop of your head. Your breathing labored, your heart pounding. Fear. Adrenaline. Anger. Fear. Fear. Fear.

“You never let me in, did you? All that stuff you told me – your dad, your ex – like you want me to know. Like you’re lookin’ for me to do somethin’ about it. And then when I try, you slam the door closed again.”

“I don’t…I don’t want you to do anything about any of it,” you cry, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

Lie number one.

“Then what do you want? Tell me, pretty girl, ‘cause I’m – I’m at a loss here.”

“I want you to – fuck, Joel, why can’t you just –? I want you to back off.”

Two.

“I can’t,” he whispers, leaning closer. “’s the thing. I care ab– I lo– I…”

He rubs his eyes with his palms. Maybe his head hurts as bad as yours does. Maybe the office is becoming too bright for him to look, too.

“You think you’re broken,” he mumbles, “you think all that stuff makes you – I don’t know, what is it? Unlovable?”

There’s a spotlight creeping over you – bright white and burning. Lighting every inch of you up, every dark shadow uncovered. The monsters and the phantoms and the six, eight, twelve-legged beasts scuttling off in search of refuge.

Jeers and cackles from an audience behind him as he cranes the neck of the lamp and positions it right on you.

“Don’t –”

“…Worth nothin’? I don’t know, angel, but I can’t do anything about it if you won’t let me, and –”

“Joel –”

He’s not listening. He never fucking listens. He’s still going on, but your ears are ringing, and your vision is whitening, and your chest is constricting, and your throat is dry and your lungs are closing and your skin is hurting and your –

“What the fuck did you even expect?” you hiss, before your brain catches the words.

Joel halts. He finally stops talking. The room finally dims again. You can hear cars on the street. Your phone is ringing at your desk.

You repeat your question, quieter. Heavier. “What did you want from me?”

He’s frozen. Looks concerned. Looks…afraid of you. “I never wanted anything from you,” he says.

“No? Sure sounds like you wanted something.”

He doesn’t say a word. It gives you time, you think – time you know you should put into backing up, thinking it through, not saying it. But you don’t do any of those things. You fucking say it anyway, don’t you? You are your father’s daughter. The anger is woven into your skin, ivy around your bones. The fire behind your eyes isn’t love, or passion, or determination.

It’s rage.

“Is this what you did to Avery? This why you didn’t wanna marry her?” And then, steeling yourself, gritting your teeth: “What secrets were you keeping from her, Joel?”

He still doesn’t bite. Avery’s not the sore spot, and you know it. There’s a different weakness to him, now. Newer. She’s stood right in front of him.

“I mean,” you scoff, incredulous, “what did you think – that we were gonna end up married or something? AC/DC first dance? Big wedding in Italy, three kids and a fucking prenup to save your ass ‘n your millions?”

You swear you hear the crash from here. The bear hitting the ground, or the door of the Toyota slamming shut, or Joel’s heart falling apart, maybe. He gathers it up, sweeping it into his hands with what little dignity you’ve left him with, straightens, and –

He’s angry. Looks it, sounds it. Feels it. A way you’ve never seen him before – not directed at you, anyway. Accounting, when they fuck up the budget for the year. Jean-Marc, when he flirts with you too much. Never you. He’s never this mad at you.

Like kids in a playground, coming up with the worst, most poisonous insults to throw at one another – your words swing fast, and he only just manages to swerve them, hitting straight back with a punch made up of his own.

“Naw, you’d probably say yes to my face ‘n then break it off two days later, wouldn’t you?”

It’s low. It stings. Shocks the life back into you, once it’s looped twice around your ears.

Joel knows it. Sees the glint in your eye before you have the chance to clear away the tears. Hears the tiny gasp that escapes your lips. The bear just stepped right on top of the snake.

“Fuck,” he says instantly. As soon as the sentence leaves his mouth, he’s undoing it. “That wasn’t – I didn’t mean…” He’s stepping forward, trying to wrap his hand around your arm. “Baby, I’m so sorry –”

Your wrist slips from his grasp. “Don’t – don’t touch me. Don’t.”

“Hey,” he says, almost cooing, almost trying to fan the burn with light breaths, “look at me. Please look at me. I did not mean that, alright? I was just –”

You shake your head, staring off past him. “It’s fine, Joel. No, I knew exactly what you meant.”

He staggers backwards, running his hands through his hair; almost growling into his palms when he drags them down his cheeks. “Darlin’,” he says, and leans in again. He speaks slow and seriously. “I would give you anything. There is not a thing in this world that I wouldn’t do for you. I would do anything. In the whole damn world. This is – It’s not –”

“Anything?” you ask, your stone-set gaze refusing to meet his.

He mirrors your curious expression, his own brows lifting. He can’t believe you’re even asking him. “Yes. Anything. I care about you more than anyone in the fucking world.”

He probably says more to convince you. Probably promises a load of stuff, apologizes a couple more times. Probably says sentences that would lodge themselves between your vertebrae and paralyze you with fear, if your hearing weren’t muffled and your mind elsewhere.

Your shoulders tighten. Jaw ticks. When you pull your eyes to finally meet his, you nod. “Alright,” you interrupt, pursing your lips, “okay.”

“Okay?”

Another nod. Yeah. You’re about to do this. Father’s daughter aren’t you just your father’s daughter always running out always running off –

“This is over. It’s done. You don’t look at me, you don’t touch me, you don’t talk to me unless it’s somethin’ in your job description or mine. Hell, even then – see if Martha can do it before you ask me. We’re done.”

It wipes him clean. Every thought, every desire, every motivation – gone. Dissolved, by the venom seeping from your fangs. No more bear. He stares back at you, eyes glossy, lips trembling. He flattens them against one another, steadies himself. Angry, upset, fucking – heartbroken.

“Is that what you want?” he asks. His voice breaks. It sends a blade through your chest.

You hesitate. Your eyes are searing. Between your tears and the nauseating tilt of the room, you can barely see him.

The third lie rolls from your tongue like a marble.

“Yeah. It’s what I want.”

And you know it, better than anyone: you’re lying through your fucking teeth. The way you have been this entire conversation. Pasting over wounds and scars, bricks laid over sodden sand foundations. But you’re petrified – stood on your own, fighting your own corner. The only person who ever managed to make you feel safe, calm you down, lower your gloves for you – now stood opposite with his fists up, too.

Joel nods. Anything in the whole damn world.

“Fine,” he says, eventually. “Fine. We’re done.”

[macfrog]

mile high sex on fire chapter three

we're going overseas baby! (this is gonna be a three-parter cause i hyperfixated and couldn't stop myself so BUCKLE UP) author's note: i absolutely do NOT condone the use of private jets. they are GROSS and terrible for the environment and just fucking fly commerical ok? but in this ceo!joel ficland, private jets are fuelled by delusion and emit only clean, pure oxygen. thank you for reading. now, with that in mind, please enjoy reader being railed in a plane cabin. i love u all to paris n back 🤍🥐

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you accompany joel on a work trip to paris, to eat good food, drink expensive wine, and…get to know each other a little better

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) environmental crime, plane sex, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv sex, daddy kink, joel being a fucking exhibitionist menace, creampie, more gf representation, showering together, softdom!joel, sugardaddy!joel, heavy on the flirting, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, very ridiculous spending on very ridiculous things, workplace relationship and therefore odd power dynamic yadda yadda yadda

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.” “They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.” “Who?” Joel asks. He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes. “Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

You’ve never been on a work trip with Joel. Usually, he likes to take them alone. Martha told you once about a time a couple years before you started when Joel took an intern to a conference in Canada, and the kid spent the entire first night in the hotel bar, missed the conference the next day, and only just made the flight home, scruff of his neck between Joel’s knuckles.

He racked up a bill of nearly a thousand dollars just on liqueur and finger food. Joel had sworn he’d never take anybody anywhere with him again.

But there’s this client over in Europe he’s due to meet – an annual thing where they sit on the terrace of some luxurious hotel, drink expensive wine that tastes like piss, according to Joel, and have a cock-off over their money and status.

Sounds like fun, right?

You’ve a pretty good idea why he asked you. And he made a pretty convincing pitch: he’d promised you a relaxing weekend. You didn’t have to sit in on any meetings, he’d let you amble around the city by day, take you for a fancy dinner or two at night. All expenses paid. You barely had to lift a finger.

As per the deal, Martha organized the travel documents. Printed them, collated them, handed them to you in a neat little folder with a paperclip on top and a Post-It note with Have fun! written in red ink. You’d slipped it into your bag and followed Joel to his car, nodding to Rand as you ducked under the starlit ceiling.

Joel’s left hand sits around your thigh – because where else would it be? – his right clutching his phone, thumb scrolling as he absentmindedly reads some document. You’re watching the city soar by from behind tinted glass. Before long, it’s the dark green of trees flickering by, and then, canvased by the clear blue sky, an air traffic control tower in the distance.

The Rolls saunters past the main entrance to the airport. You watch it roll by, leaning forward in your seat.

“Wait, what…?”

“What, baby?” Joel asks, looking up from his phone.

You usually knew every fine detail of the plan by heart. It was your job to. But with Martha being in charge of arranging your flight, you’d missed one crucial speck of information this time. And that is –

You’re travelling by private fucking jet.

The car drives across smooth tarmac toward a pointed white plane, bold against the brilliant blue sky behind it. There are four people standing at the bottom of the steps leading into it; what you assume are the two pilots, and two smartly dressed flight attendants.

“How did I never know you had a…?”

Joel smirks. “Never showed you it. C’mon.”

He gets out, strolls around to your door and opens it for you. You’re still gawking at the jet.

“Jeez…” you whisper, hopping out of the car.

“What is it?” he says through a chuckle, leading you across the tarmac.

“I feel so…Everyone looks so…I’m in my fucking sweatpants, Joel.”

He looks at you under low brows, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Like he doesn’t want to hear one more word of it. He holds an arm out; his pinkie bumps into your tummy.

“I think you look beautiful, darlin’.”

It might’ve stopped you in your tracks. Might’ve crumbled the entire airport to dust. Might’ve made the sun drop out of the sky. You’re not sure. You wouldn’t notice if you dropped dead right now.

His words, his soft voice when he says them, send a pang of white noise through your ears, echoing around and bouncing off the walls of your head.

You swallow. Digest what he just said. And do your best to forget all about it.

Joel takes your hand and leads you to the plane steps, helping you up. He follows at your heels. “Thanks, Jerry, Lisa,” he says. You give both pilots a nervous smile as you pass.

The airconditioned cabin chills your arms when you reach the top, twisting around to look back to Joel.

“Go on.” Joel nods, palm ushering you inside.

You step forward and turn right, standing in the doorway to a pristine, white-walled, wooden interior cabin, leather seats dotted against the walls, dark brown glassy tables between them, soft gray carpet at your feet, vacuum cleaner lines still visible. There’s a long plush couch on the left wall, today’s newspaper on the side table next to it.

You feel Joel’s body shell around yours, his chin dips against your ear.

“Like it?”

“Not really. Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution.”

“How many trees you want me to plant to make up for it?”

You tut. “What are you doin’ in business? You’re so funny.”

You wander off without looking back, heading for one of the window seats.

“Uh,” Joel clears his throat, “there’s a separate cabin up back, too, if you want it.”

“Separate cabin?”

He nods. “’s got a bed. It’s cozy.”

A bed. Of course this asshole has a fucking bed in his private jet.

The pilots file in behind him, dipping into the cockpit. The flight attendants follow, and begin preparing for takeoff. Joel strolls over to the seat opposite yours, giving your legs a nudge under the varnished table when he sits down.

You both click your seatbelts into place, relax, and look out the window as the jet rolls by the airport, heading for the runway. The engine fires up properly, a deep hum you feel rattling up your spine, and then you’re pulled forward, body pushing heavily into the soft leather of your seat.

The plane races down the runway, the grass and trees blurring into a mix of dark and light green, before you’re lifting off the tarmac and into the air, your tummy flipping a little from excitement and maybe some nerves, and…Joel’s gaze on you.

When your eyes meet his, he scans down. Your little black t-shirt, skin tight. The way your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. Down to the waist of your sweatpants, then further down your legs. You know exactly what’s going through his mind.

And, honestly…being on a private jet on your way to a free weekend in Paris, accompanied by the best sex you’ve ever had…? Goes against a couple of your core beliefs about the world, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t on your mind, too.

The flight attendants let you guys know you can unbuckle your belts now, and, like a hive mind, you both unclip them and stand.

“Was gonna go check out that, uh–”

“I’ll show you to it,” Joel cuts in, taking your bag and leading you down the aircraft. He dips his head as he walks, the cabin too small for him to stand straight. You follow like a fucking dog, trying to hide the spring in your step.

Through a door concealed to look like part of the wall is a small room with a double bed, soft white sheets untouched. There’s a little TV on the wall opposite, a small table with another comfy chair by one of the windows, and a rail for hanging up clothes. The shades over the windows are pulled almost all the way down, sunlight splintering through and lining the soft carpet.

Joel wasn’t wrong. It is cozy.

He sets your bag down on the floor and closes the door behind you. You notice he locks it.

The corners of your lips tug, your eyebrows raise. “Might be classier than my bedroom.”

He scoffs, and you turn, falling back onto the bed and kicking your shoes off.

“Alright,” you announce, flat-out on the sheets, “I’m gonna get some shut-eye.”

Joel looks surprised. Almost – offended. “Sh…You’re gonna sleep?”

“’s why you got a bed, ain’t it?”

He narrows his eyes, runs his tongue along the bottom of his teeth. Steps forward. Sticks a knee between yours. “Not exactly.”

You smile up at him. He’s pulling the jacket from his shoulders, plain white tee underneath. He looks so fucking good. The man always looks so fucking good. He tosses the jacket to the floor and bends down over you. Hands pressing deep into the bed either side of your head, torso hovering over yours. Hips just too far away for you to lift yours up to meet them.

You take hold of his wrists. “Then…show me what it’s for.”

Joel looks from your lips to your chest, then back up to your eyes, grinning like a devil. He lifts one hand and his fingers come down to play with the drawstring of your sweatpants, tugging painfully slow on them. You want to whine, but that’d be letting him win too easily.

He loosens the waist and his fingers find the hem of your tee tucked beneath.

“You gonna show me those pretty tits, baby?”

You nod, biting your lip as he peels your top from your body, your back arching, arms splaying out on the bed. Joel uncovers your chest and slips the top over your head, discarding it to the side and leaning back to take the view in.

You didn’t wear a bra today. Wanted to travel in as much comfort as possible.

One of your wiser choices.

“Fuck, darlin’…” he breathes, eyes set on your perky tits, your round, hardened nipples. His reaction sends a fleet of electricity down to your core.

“C’mere,” you whisper, taking his shirt in your fists and dragging him down against your naked torso. And then his hips are there, right against yours, and you grind up into him, feeling his bulging crotch between your legs.

Your fingers dance along the hem of his shirt and he lifts off of you, letting you tug it over his head before his chest is pressed back against yours. You part your lips and he fills your mouth with his tongue, hands in your hair, body grinding against your own. He’s pushing you further up the mattress until you’re both in the center, disturbing the sheets and shifting the cushions decorating the bed.

Joel’s hand trails down your naked stomach and under your pants, cutting past the lace of your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger daring ever lower. You moan and drag your hips forward to edge his fingers further, until they’re dipping between your folds and your body’s rolling with pleasure.

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, “that’s it, huh? That’s what you want?”

“Uhuh,” you nod, bottom lip between your teeth, eyelashes batting in a plea for him to keep going. Keep fucking going.

His mouth dips between your jaw and your shoulder, teeth picking up your hot skin to suck a bruise while two fingers push inside of you, lifting your back from the mattress and into Joel’s rock-solid body. Some noise escapes his lips, something caught between a laugh and a groan.

“So tight, baby,” he murmurs, drawing a smile across your face.

And then your hands are messing around at his waistband, fingers fumbling with the button. Wanting him in your hands as much as he has you around his own. Needing to feel what you’re doing to him, since he’s well aware of what he’s done to you.

Joel’s hand slips gently out from under your pants and his weight lifts off of you. In the slivers of light streaming through the cabin windows, his silhouette steps back off the bed and shoves the denim down his thighs. His jeans hit the floor and as quick as he left you, he’s back pressing into you again, hard outline of his length nudging against the top of your thigh.

You slip a hand under the elastic of his underwear and take hold of his cock, while he picks up where he left off between your legs. Your lips connect, breathing laughs and pants and desperate moans into each other, hands working to push each other closer and closer…

Joel’s fingers pump in and out, curling just enough to hit your G-spot every time. His thumb’s bumping at your clit, pushing waves of pleasure with each circle. He adds a third finger when you start to gasp, the movement of your fist around his shaft becoming messy and staggered. You’re trying to focus on him, trying to get him there as fast as he’s getting you, but he’s so fucking good at it, and you’re starting to fade out of the cabin.

Your eyes roll shut; head falls back against the bed. You’re still trying to fucking jack him off, as if he’d even let himself cum in your hands before he’s been inside you. But you’re desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of having you unfold on his hand less than ten minutes into this. Desperately trying not to give in to him and his stupid private jet.

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel whispers in your ear, pressing a delicate kiss to your hair, “you can cum. Do it for me.”

“F-uck you,” you whisper, and you cave.

Let’s put it down to the air pressure when you’re this high up. In fact, let’s just say: you’re on a plane, and you’ve never had anything remotely close to sex on a plane before, and that’s why, when your orgasm bursts through, you cum harder than you think you’ve ever done before. It’s because of how fucking insane this is.

Let’s just say.

You come to with your face buried in the crook of Joel’s neck. His chest is vibrating, Adam’s apple bobbing. You pull back and notice the dimples in his swollen cheeks, the crow’s feet by his eyes, and then…the wide smile spread across his lips.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he asks through a laugh.

You curse at him again, eyes screwing shut. His hand’s still between your legs, slowly moving in and out, lulling you through the tail end of your orgasm. Your hands have deserted their original job; they’re clutching Joel’s shoulders. You don’t even remember grabbing onto him.

“Got somethin’ that’ll make you feel even better,” he breathes, and before you’re fully awake, his hands are on your hips, flipping you over. He drags your pants down your legs, discarding them to the floor beside his.

You sigh when he pulls your ass up into the air, resting your ear on your folded arms. Accepting defeat, or maybe just…letting him do what he does best.

Joel slips your panties to the side and runs his cock up and down your dripping cunt. You flinch, still sensitive, and feel him slow down.

“Gonna make you feel real good, alright?”

“Mhm,” you reply, eyes closing again as he lines up.

It sounds like a bit of a dumb thing to say. Joel makes you feel good every time his hands are on you, without question. Even that first night, in that dive bar, before he’d ever really done anything. His hands sent electricity through your body that you failed all weekend to rid yourself of. But you hear what he’s really saying.

You haven’t had each other yet without someone on the other side of the wall, waiting for one of you. It’s always been a rush, always been about that race to the finish line just to satisfy your needs, and then return to Earth as soon as you’re done.

There’s no need to rush to that finish line this time around. Nobody’s waiting. Joel can do whatever he wants, can fuck you however he likes, and have you under his hand for as long as he wants. As long as you both last.

The bed makes sense now, doesn’t it?

He pushes inside you, thick, hard, full. You gasp, face burying into the comforter, legs spreading to accommodate his size. Your fingers grasp onto the sheets, nails digging into the soft fabric as he fills you up, pulls halfway out, and rocks back in.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cry, and his hips slam into yours.

“Huh?” he asks.

“Daddy,” you correct yourself, still gasping.

“Better.”

Joel pounds into you, strong grip on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock at a punishing pace. His grunts match your whines. Your hand stretches out to grab something – anything – to hold onto, to steady yourself as your body begins to collapse.

“Daddy,” you mewl again, muffled by the cotton of the sheets, like it’s the only word coming to mind. “So – fuckin’ – good.”

“Louder, baby,” he replies, groaning when you tighten around him.

You whimper. “F-fuck, daddy.”

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.”

“They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.”

“Who?” Joel asks.

He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes.

“Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

His hips crack into yours again once, and then halt. You cry out, the sudden feeling of him in his entirety, filling you up, pushing right up against your cervix, too much to bear. Too much to be muffled by the mattress beneath you.

“Let – them,” Joel’s hips drag back, slow, leaving you empty, “hear – you.”

He thrusts forward again, painfully, and you moan. Loud. “Ah, daddy,” you cry out again, and you swear Joel’s chest rumbles behind you with a laugh.

“That’s it, good girl. Tell ‘em how good it feels.”

You feel your mind start to slip, the cabin going with it. Your eyes roll closed, your mouth falls open. The only sound escaping your lips a whine, over and over, shaped just like the word daddy, daddy, daddy.

Joel’s forehead rests on the crown of yours, his voice a soft hum at the nape of your neck.

“See? Sound way too pretty to keep quiet, darlin’.”

He’s panting, words spilling out of his mouth between gasps and grunts. Hips are snapping at a grueling pace. You reach for his wrists again, planted in the bed either side of your head, and squeeze as if it might relieve the building tension in the pit of your stomach.

But he’s going so fast, so hard, fucking you dumb. And you can feel him start to falter, when your walls hold him snug, tightening around him as you reach your high.

He cums when you do. You feel him empty inside you as you hurtle through your own orgasm, rippling bliss all around your body. You both cry out, filling the tiny room with groans of pleasure and release together.

Your hips give, fall flat to the mattress, Joel still inside, slowly rocking back and forth, pushing his cum deeper and deeper inside you.

His elbows sink into the bed at your shoulders, caging you under his body as the remnants of your highs wash away. He’s running soft, wet kisses from your neck down the top of your spine. When your body stills, the pulsing of your cunt a mere flutter, he slips out from between your legs and pushes up off of your body.

Joel collapses alongside you atop the tangle of sheets and pillows, skin sticking, bodies thrumming with energy. You roll over to lie next to him. Chests rising and falling in unison, fingers intertwining at your sides. You’re staring at the ceiling, head tilting to rest on Joel’s shoulder, and he places a soft kiss to your hair.

You glance up to look into his brown eyes, lit by the thin rays of bursting sunlight seeping through the windows. The way the light moves across him as the plane turns, brilliant rays sweeping over the horizon and reflecting every angle of his face.

When he notices you, he dips his chin, and you prop yourself up, pressing your lips to his. Joel holds your jaw softly, thumb grazing over your cheekbone. His other hand scoops around your back, holding your body close to his.

“Sleepy,” you mutter, and he nods.

“Get some rest,” he tells you, but you’re already laying your head down on his chest.

Your heavy eyes blink the jet out of view; Joel’s hand stroking your hair sends you off to sleep.

----------

You wake under the white sheets, still wrapped up in Joel’s arms, to the sound of voices on the TV. Some comedy movie. Sounds like Adam Sandler. Joel mutes it when he notices you stirring.

“Afternoon,” he mutters, voice husky.

“Hi,” you reply softly, and his hand runs through your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Only a little while. They’re probably getting ready for lunch. You want me to head out first?”

You nod, suddenly feeling ashamed…and hungry. “Yeah. ‘n can you…make sure they don’t ask?”

“They ain’t gonna ask,” he groans, laughing as you roll off his body and let him up.

You watch as he dresses himself, toned arms pulling his tee over broad shoulders; tan legs slipping back into neat jeans. He slings his jacket over his arm and bends back down over you to let you kiss him again – slow, deep. Something of a thanks, a you’re welcome, maybe. A marker, anyway. A prelude to this weekend.

And then he slips out front. You lock the door behind him and start collecting your clothes, hopping around the cabin as you pull them on.

Before you leave, you grab a hoodie from your bag, feeling a little more exposed than you did when you first boarded. You toss it over your shoulders and open the door.

“Couple more hours,” Joel tells you as you sit opposite him, propping your ankles on his lap. His hands run over your socks, brows furrowing when he notices the pattern. “Bart Simpson?”

“Comfiest socks I own. Good plane socks.”

“Alright.”

“Go on. Make fun of ‘em.”

“I didn’t say anything. You want somethin’ to eat?”

You smirk. “Sure.”

He pours you a glass of water from the metal jug on the table between you both, and one of the attendants appears as if by magic on your right.

“Got you gluten free stuff,” Joel says as you gulp at the ice water.

You almost choke. “Seriously?”

His face twists, confused. Mirroring your astonishment. “Yeah. You think I’d let you starve?”

You almost laugh before you hear it, and realize how sweet it is. You didn’t even know Joel noticed this stuff. Didn’t think it’d be on his radar.

“Thank you,” you whisper, lifting your glass to mask the blush burning across your cheeks.

Joel nods once. Then turns to the attendant and asks for a burger, side of fries, side of onion rings. “We got sweet potato fries, Len?” he asks.

“Think so,” Len replies. “Want them instead? Or both?”

Joel thinks it over for probably two seconds, before he shrugs and says, “Both. Thanks, man.”

Len turns to you, but you’re still staring at Joel. “Unbelievable,” you mutter.

Joel holds his hands out. “I’m hungry.”

You give Len a smile. “What’s…What can I have?”

“We got gluten free flour, bread, pasta, uh…garlic bread for sides, too. And a couple desserts.”

“What the f…?” You stare at Joel. “You didn’t have to–”

“Just order, baby,” Joel says, palm facing you, stopping you from going on.

“I’ll, uh…You do fried chicken?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll have fried chicken, side of fries, and coleslaw, if you have it, please.”

Len nods curtly and heads back up front, leaving you and Joel on your own again. You finish your thought.

“What the fuck?”

He’s chuckling. “What?”

“You…This is…Nothing, you just…you blow my mind, every time.”

Joel shrugs, grinning. “Blow your back out, ‘n all.”

“Alright.” You snatch your ankles from his grasp – Bart’s toothy smirk slipping from between Joel’s fingers – and sit up straight, looking out of the window to the dazzling sky; bright blue on top and fluffy white clouds beneath.

Your food arrives shortly after and the pair of you eat in comfortable silence. Joel checks through his emails, you sit back in your seat with your headphones in. It’s nice, not having a phone to answer or Joel’s schedule to fix. Nicer, still, having him feet away from you, giving you all the attention you could possibly want at the drop of a hat.

You land in Paris at 10PM local time. Straight off the plane and into another sleek, black car, driven by a gray-haired, sharp-suited man named Denis whose hand Joel shakes before climbing in beside you. He slides into the leather seat and you fall against one another, your head on his shoulder. Partition wound up, though neither of you feel much like doing anything that’d require privacy. Your eyes are tired, heavy, you smell like eight hours’ worth of plane, and you’re basically salivating at the thought of collapsing into a huge, soft, clean bed.

Which is exactly what the pair of you do when you reach the hotel. You’re in some extravagant suite picked by Joel; you manage two glances around the dark place before he’s leading you by hand off to the bedroom, cases still parked at the front door.

And before you know it, you’re sinking into the plush sheets of a king-size bed, limbs entangled with Joel’s, city lights twinkling through the window into your sleep-glazed eyes as you drift off.

----------

Day breaks across Paris around seven in the morning. You wake with the blue glow of the sky, dusty pink on the horizon bleeding upward as the sun rises higher. When your eyes open and adjust to the light, you glance over Joel’s still sleeping body and notice the view behind him, split in half by the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower.

The curtains are still pulled back – neither of you noticed nor had the energy to shut them when you arrived. You’re both still in your clothes from yesterday, too. Joel managed to kick off his shoes, and you remember him pulling yours off before he fell into the bed next to you. You didn’t even sleep under the bedsheets.

You push yourself up off the bed, stretching your back and glancing around. This room is fucking nuts. Gold accented – gold handles, gold light switches, gold frames. Pretentious modern art decorating each wall, an upholstered headboard that almost touches the ceiling in front of you. Marble-topped nightstands with spotless silver lamps, glinting in the light.

You roll off of the bed, Bart Simpson socks landing on soft carpet, though his face has been awkwardly twisted around your ankle in your sleep. You shuffle off to a door on the left, leading down a small hallway – past some fancy ornate vase – to the living room: a wide, open space with the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the bedroom, looking out to the same view.

Two velvet couches sit opposite one another, a white marble coffee table sat between. Behind them, a dining table with eight chairs. Gleaming varnished wood. And then, through a couple more doors, a kitchenette with modern white cabinets, a coffee machine, a microwave.

Fucking. Nuts.

You hear Joel stirring in the bedroom and wander back through, dazed with sleep and amazement at this place. He’s rubbing his eyes when you walk in and spring down on top of him on the bed.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, voice thick and husky. His hands fall onto your thighs, sat either side of his waist, and his eyes flutter open. “You’re energetic.”

“Have you fucking seen this place?”

“I have. Stay here every year.”

You press further into him, feeling a swell in his jeans and doing your best to ignore it.

“Can we go explore?”

“Outside?”

You nod eagerly, despite the way his face screws up.

“Baby,” he sighs, “I’m still in my damn jeans.”

“So, go shower. Get dressed.”

He’s not done protesting. “We travelled for, like, nine hours straight yesterday.”

“’n now we’re here and we ain’t here long, so let’s go do something. C’mon.”

You lace your fingers through Joel’s and pull him up toward you, sitting in his lap on the bed. He buries his face in your chest, mumbling something incoherent into the cotton of your shirt.

You giggle. “Huh? Can’t hear you.”

Joel pulls back with a sigh and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Alright,” he says, “go get ready.”

You leap off of him with a quiet squeal of glee.

As you pace around the suite, dragging your case into the bedroom, fishing some clean clothes and your toothbrush out, practically skipping into the marble-tiled shower room, Joel lays back in bed watching your every move. Smiling, eyebrows lifting with encouragement anytime you look over to him. Head resting back in the crook of his arm, sleepy eyes taking in all of your excitement.

You’re rinsing shampoo out of your hair when he slides into the shower behind you, a quick kiss to your shoulder.

“No sex,” you tell him with a pointed finger, squeezing the lemon scented gel into the palm of your hand.

“No, ma’am,” he says with a smirk, dipping his head to let you lather up the suds in his salt and pepper hair. “So, where we goin’?”

You shrug. “Wherever. Lots to do in Paris.”

“Wanna get you somethin’ nice,” he says, eyes screwed shut as he runs his head under the flow of water, “a thanks for comin’ with me.”

“I think maybe the private jet, the hotel room, plus the free trip in itself is thanks enough, Joel.”

But Joel disagrees. Heartily, apparently.

He takes your hand and helps you out of the car on a tree-lined street, tall cream buildings on either side. It looks like a movie set. You’re following Joel’s lead, spending more time craning your neck to look up at the huge, ornate windows guarded by black balconettes while he guides you across cobblestone toward the smoothly paved sidewalk.

You’re not even paying attention to where he’s taking you until you’re stood in the middle of a glistening store, plush rug under your feet, lavish chairs in the center of the room, a rainbow of fashion surrounding you.

“What…? No, Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes scanning the room. He takes a step, and you tug on his arm.

“I can’t fucking afford Gucci,” you whisper, pulling his body back against yours.

He hands you a bemused smile, eyebrows low, corners of his lips pulled. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Your arm falls limp and he drags you through the store, past mannequins in patterned gowns and silk shirts, past shelves of obnoxiously huge purses and accessories gleaming in the spotlights from above.

Your fingers stay locked around Joel’s hand, your head swiveling so much you worry it might fall off, looking from the vibrant floral wallpaper down to the spotless tiled floor, glancing politely at attendants and then dipping your head and wandering by them behind Joel.

“See anything?” he asks, turning to you at the opposite end of the store.

It’s ridiculous. This entire trip…is ridiculous, and you’ve only been here twelve hours. Following around at Joel’s heels like a puppy, watching as he clicks his fingers – no, before he even gets the chance to click his fingers – and everything and anything either of you could dream up just…happens. Right in front of you.

He won’t let up. You know him. If you tried to pull him back outside onto the street, he’d buy you something for the hell of it.

You know him. So, you decide to use that to your advantage.

“Gucci…I dunno…” you muse, squinting at him.

“Not your thing?” he asks, and he seems curious, but – you know him. You know that behind that polite mask is a smirk thick enough to make your knees wobble. He knows what you’re doing. “Where to, angel?”

You lead him out of the store. Feel his shadow behind you, watching as you thank the doorman and take a left around the corner, passing under the shade of the gently rustling trees. Arm in arm, you arrive before a huge archway, pristine windows surrounding the door to…

“Dolce & Gabbana…” Joel looks up at the stone writing atop the arch. “Alright. Classy girl.”

You giggle, pulling him past the wrought-iron fence and inside.

It’s sleeker, moodier. Less in your face. Suits you a bit better, though you can’t quite swallow back the guilt that sticks in your throat as you saunter around, Joel right behind you. It catches you when an assistant touches your arm, snapping you out of your daze, and asks if you need anything.

“No, thank you,” you reply, mirroring her smile. “Thank you.”

She nods and floats off.

Joel’s frame shells around yours, dipping his jaw to lean against your shoulder. “What about that one?” His eyes flit up to a mannequin just past a lit table of purses.

“The black one?”

“Mhm.”

“You like that?”

He repeats, a little more exaggerated: “Mhm.”

You shrug. “I do look good in black.”

“Look better in nothin’.” Joel steps forward and takes the tag between two delicate fingers, deliberately hiding it from you. He turns back, lifts his eyebrows in question. “Buy you it if you promise to wear it tonight.”

You smile. This man knows how to barter. And you take no convincing at all.

“Alright,” you accept, “deal.”

----------

Three hours later, you’re strolling down another cobbled street with an ice cream in your hand. And not much else, by the way. Joel’s taken all the shopping bags back to the hotel. He slapped your hand away when you tried to lift one of them from his clutches.

The wind sifts gently through your hair, cooling your face and neck, toying with the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing. It flutters the French flags overhead, red, white and blue blowing in the breeze. Cars roll by, engines humming as they weave in and out between one another, horns calling out in the distance.

Joel hadn’t let you come up to the counter to pay with him, had insisted you stay right where you were standing, and when he finished up and laced his fingers through yours, it was like a surge of energy had shot through him.

He led you out of the store and into another, and another, and another…until his hands were wrapped around, what, six bags? All carrying different components of your outfit for tonight.

And then he’d noticed the time – unlocked his phone with a curse under his breath, and kissed your temple. Midday. He was meeting Jean-Marc in an hour.

“You wanna come back with me? Chill at the hotel?” he’d asked, dialing his chauffeur’s number.

“I’m good,” you said, smiling sweetly as he squeezed your shoulder. Then, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you his card.

“’case you see anything else you want.”

“Joel,” you protested, but he’d shut you up by clicking his teeth and walking off, leaving you to follow after him, shamelessly beaming.

He’d apologized another three times before Denis had pulled up, then once more as he loaded the trunk with your bags.

“See you later. Enjoy your meeting,” you teased, laughing at the way his face twisted into a grimace as the car rolled off.

It’d been a pretty nice afternoon. You’d dipped into a couple more stores – though, without Joel to impress, the low-cut dresses and short miniskirts were somewhat less exciting.

That is, until you passed by a lingerie store. You stood outside for a second, peering by your reflection in the window to study what lay behind. Suddenly lace and satin – and the idea of Joel seeing you in them – seemed a lot more enticing.

You’d pieced together an entire getup: bra, panties, garter belt, even a pair of stockings, and a silk robe to go over the top. You handed over Joel’s card, ignoring the way your cheeks began to heat and focusing instead on how smug you felt, and skipped out of the store, bag in hand.

You’d called Denis five minutes ago to ask for a ride back to the hotel. He called you Madame, he said Nonono every time you apologized for bothering him again, and he promised he’d be there in less than ten minutes.

You pace back and forth along the curb, waiting for the shiny black Maybach to pull up. You’ve checked your phone, like, five times already, kinda hoping there’ll be a text from Joel. You swing the bag between your fingers.

A door swings open behind you, giggles filter out into the street, and you turn to see a couple bounding out of a jewelers, hand in hand. She flicks her left wrist up, tilts it in the sun. It’s hard to ignore the light bouncing off of her ring finger. You feel nauseous at the sight.

Suddenly the Parisian street dissolves, and what sweeps over in replacement is a long, empty lawn, maple trees swaying menacingly in the distance. There’s a blur of bright blue sky, sunrays bursting across your vision. Your hand comes up to shield your eyes, and there he is. There he was.

He was on the grass. You told him to stand up; his suit trousers would be stained green. He did it anyway. Trembling hands, expectant stare. You stuttered and stammered your way through a sentence fueled by shock and horror and…resentment.

And then you did it anyway, too.

The crackle of tires coming to a stop on the road in front drags your fraught gaze from the couple, now strutting off down the avenue. You reach for the door handle, but Denis is already out of the car and leaning down, hand on your back as you duck into the backseat.

----------

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