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urmomsmattress · 4 days ago

Text

oasis

dbf neighbor! joel miller x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: your dad's friend is tasked with looking after you while he's out of town. he ends up finding you somewhere you absolutely shouldn't be. blackmail ensues. 8.3k words.

for @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my genre was dark and the prompt was "please don't tell my dad!" thanks for the amazing challenge! 💌

warnings: 18+ MDNI! dark themes, joel is pervy and sleazy, age gap (reader is under drinking age but an adult so 18-20, joel's age unmentioned but he calls himself an old man and he's 50+ in my head), consensual but there are elements of coercion and blackmail so... (it's dark! okay!), unprotected piv, lap sitting, lap dance, thigh/crotch riding, orgasm denial, pussy pronouns, dirty diiiirty talk, cumshot?, reader has hair that can be pulled and wears lingerie but otherwise is undescribed.

a/n: this is less edited than my usual work but i hope i did it justice! it was very fun and silly to come up with this idea and i ended up loooving how crazy it got!

Keep an eye on her while we’re gone, eh?

The words from your father ring through Joel’s ears when he hears the start of an engine from where he sits in his living room, his view on the plush couch offering a perfect view through the large picture window on the front of the house. Right to where you live with your dad, where he can see the lights of your car come on. Bingo. He’s got you now.

Obsession felt like a strong word, but Joel could describe it no other way as soon as you’d moved in across the street - your dad was a longtime friend and neighbor, talk of his little girl rampant for years before he’d had the chance to meet you. You were going to be going to college nearby, so you moved from where you lived with your mom in California down to your father in Texas, right across the street from where he’d had the pleasure of laying eyes on you for the first time.

Young. Supple. Beautiful. And so damn shy.

He hated just how much it turned him on when your timid eyes would find his. The pervy old man who couldn’t keep his eyes off a young girl - what a god damned cliche he’d become. He kept tabs on you, at first not really realizing he was doing it, eyes peering out the windows to catch you on your way out the door or coming home soon escalated to trying to see into your bedroom window at the front of the house. His time with your father mysteriously seemed to double, then triple, any chance he could to get close to you, see you in your natural habitat, hoping to learn more about this special girl that had captured so much of his attention.

You dressed modestly, too - far too modestly for his liking - he knew your father was a strict man, and assumed just as much about your mother from the way your dad talked about his ex-wife. He never got to see enough of you, except for the few times you had on shorter dresses when the summer heat just got to be too much to bear, and those rare occasions burned themselves into his memory, a bank of images to pull from when he took a hand to his cock and thought of you.

He’s up in a flash, smiling softly to himself as he quickly slides on his shoes and swipes his keys from the front table, exiting the house and seeing your car still parked in the drive. You always sit there too long before driving off, probably playing on your phone, texting your friends, whatever the hell young girls like you do. All Joel knows is he’s grateful it gives him enough time to sneak to his truck before you can get too far, waiting until you pull out and start down the street before starting his own car.

Joel checks the time as he starts down his driveway and sees it’s well after 9:00 pm. Where the hell could you be going, you naughty thing? Your dad has a strict curfew for you, he knows, and if he’s tasked with keeping an eye on you, he might as well do it right.

So he follows you. You get on the highway, heading towards downtown, and Joel’s eyebrows raise as he turns up his music, cruising along behind you, so unaware as he sees the outline of your own head bopping along to your music when he can get a clear enough view.

When you finally park, the city streets bustling with people out late on a Friday night around you, Joel sits in his truck, eyes peeled as he watches you round a building, disappearing. Oasis, the glowing sign on the front says. It looks a bit seedy, this area of town, a bouncer on the outside that you’d given a curt wave to sending Joel’s expression into pure shock before a determined smirk crosses his lips.

It turns out it’s not as exclusive as having a bouncer would make it seem. Joel waits in line with the others, feeling a bit out of place but his appetite to bust you outweighs all of it. Not more than ten minutes later he’s inside, the dark hallway opening up to a massive room laid out in front of him. It’s busy - bodies everywhere, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and arousal permeating everything and Joel blinks to adjust his eyes to the dim mood lighting. A dance floor takes up most of the middle, crowded to the max as music bumps through the speakers, and two bars flank either side, fully packed as well. There are lounges everywhere - cushy leather couches with tables, and as Joel’s vision comes in in full, he sees more private spots along the edges of the room on a slightly elevated area, curtains closing them in.

Too busy taking everything in, he doesn’t even notice the most important detail right away - the waitresses. More specifically, the way they’re all dressed. Gorgeous bodies of all shapes and sizes, parading around in what is essentially lingerie - a lacy black bra paired with a matching set of panties, sheer black stockings and a garter trailing down their legs all the way to the heels that adorn their feet. Joel feels a twinge inside his belly, pulling low and taut when he spots one of the waitresses with thick thighs and a plush stomach grinding on a woman sitting on one of the couches, the receiver throwing her head back in teasing, pleased laughter before taking a long sip of her drink. He continues scanning the room, seeing another man closer to his age being straddled by a different waitress with one of the nicest pairs of tits Joel has ever seen in that same uniform, her hips swaying and grinding so close to his crotch as she gives him a lapdance.

Fuck.

His mind spins faster, blood going hot as it runs through his veins, his cock twitching under the denim of his jeans. It’s been too long - all the pining, the built up frustration, and he’s needy. He finds it hard to believe you’d just be out partying at a place like this, certainly not the neighborly girl he knows. Bringing over leftovers you’d cooked for you and your dad, always with a little treat on the side and a soft smile, your frilly socks and white tennis shoes, collars that never revealed much past the very top of your gorgeous tits. But it still made him fucking crazy, all of it. He wanted to be the one to ruin it, to see who you really are underneath all of the fluff and sweetness. Because at the end of the day, he knows he wasn’t imagining that glint in your eye that told him you had more to offer.

Joel shakes the distractions and his dirty, racing thoughts, eyes scanning the room for you, remembering his mission. He is about to internally ask himself the question when your appearance answers everything he needs to know. Slack jawed, he looks on as you step out from behind one of the bars, tossing a smile over your shoulder at one of the other workers as you start to move carrying a tray full of drinks.

When you emerge in full, strutting your way across the room, you’re wearing it. The outfit. The skimpy bra and panties to match all of the other servers. Your coworkers. Oh, he’s so thoroughly fucked right now, he thinks in a rising panic. But then again, so are you.

“Thank god you’re here! You’re seriously such a life saver,” Kristina says breathlessly as you breeze into the locker room. She’s one of the supervisors here at Oasis, the club you’ve been working at since the beginning of the summer. Sure, you were underage to serve alcohol, but the owners of this club seemed willing to turn a blind eye to a lot of things to gain good talent. Good pay, direct cash, and an insane amount in tips. Enough to pay your way through college, you hoped. Beyond all of that, once you’d gotten into the swing of things you found that you liked it, too. The power you felt in these heels, the way eyes followed you everywhere, you’d never felt so desired, so free or sexually open in your life. Although the only time you’d actually had sex was with your one ex-boyfriend, and it never felt like you do here - sexy, with raw desire filling the air, something so tangible you feel you can reach out and touch it sometimes.

You pull your shirt over your head, unclasping your regular bra and swapping it for the black, lacy one that lives inside your locker. Kristina stands nearby, unfazed by your bare chest as she thanks you. She’d called you about forty five minutes ago, begging for you to come in on your night off when another server, Rochelle, got sick right as things started to pick up. Friday night tips hadn’t sounded so bad when you had no plans apart from watching TV in your dad’s empty house, so it felt like a win.

“No problem,” you say, smiling at her. “Happy to help.”

“You’ve got section five tonight - Justin has Laura covering right now, just switch out when you’re ready, kay?”

You confirm, quickly finishing up your swap into your uniform, admiring yourself in the mirror with a soft smile, still getting used to the look of lingerie on you. You’d have been stupid to keep something like this in the house with either of your parents, not worth the risk if they found out about it.

The noise of the club blares, making you wince for a quick moment as you step out from the calmness of the locker room to the deafening noise beyond and get your bearings behind the bar. It really is busy, but all you can see is money when you glance around, admiring how full the place is tonight.

You’re stopped in the middle of your flow after swinging by the bar to pick up drinks for one of your tables. It’s an extra flirtatious group of men who are practically ready to feast on you, but for all the poorly managed things about this club, they at least have a strict no touching rule with the staff that is enforced by any number of the security guards around. So you get to have your fun, keep your distance, and hope they pay extra for a lapdance from you and tip you well for it.

“You’ve got a, uh, private request,” Justin says, speaking quietly but leaning close to your ear so you can hear him. You pull back, a look of surprise on your face, a questioning glance that he confirms with a nod. “We’ll cover your tables. Room seven.”

Your mind spins faster as you walk towards the room. The rooms aren’t fully private, just a halfway curtain that gives the impression you’re more alone than you are. That luxury doesn’t come cheap, so whoever booked this room and asked for you must mean business. In fact, management hasn’t even put you on serving private rooms regularly yet, reserving that right to the more tenured employees until you work your way up the ladder. You smile, wondering who it could even be that specifically requested you - a regular that loved the banter you’d offered? A new customer who was drawn to you from across the room? It makes your heart skip a little, anticipation and a hint of nervousness coursing through you as you reach the curtain, stepping beyond to see your mystery customer.

Holy shit.

The sultry smile you’d plastered on fades right off your face, replaced with a deep set frown, your mouth open but unable to speak. Your stomach is rapidly dropping to depths it's never known before as your face starts to burn hot, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. Your arms fly up to your chest, crossing them over as some kind of futile cover of yourself, but his eyes are trained there unashamedly, seeing the way your arms have really just accentuated your cleavage. He’s spread out on one of the loveseats, completely alone, knees wide apart, lap open and desperately inviting when it absolutely should not be.

“M-Mr. Miller?”

Joel was having far too much fun with this. The priceless look on your face that had wiped off the pretty grin you’d had was worth every damn penny he’d spent on this ridiculous room just to get you alone. You think you can cover up, somehow, but it only really offers Joel a better view of your bottom half, the lacy shorts style panties a treat for his weary gaze, the garters sitting against your soft skin one of the most enticing things he’s ever seen. He instantly feels his cock getting hard as his eyes rake up and down your body, settling on where your tits are now pressed together against your crossed arms.

“Mr. Miller?” you stutter out after a long, dense silence between the two of you.

“Don’t cover up on account’a me, sweetheart,” Joel replies cooly, threading his hands together behind his head, looking even more relaxed than when you’d first walked in. Your arms seem to tighten around you, the complete opposite of Joel.

“Wh-what are you -” you start trying to ask, and Joel notices how you suddenly look unbalanced, legs shaking underneath you. You attempt a step forward, bringing yourself further into the room and it gives Joel an even closer look at you, and god damn you’re gorgeous. Your skin looks flawless, so smooth and soft looking - the apex of your thighs coming closer to eye level as you move forward, all adorned by that lace that’s making him wild. He’s never seen anything close to this much of your skin before, and he has half a mind to grab you right here and toss you over his lap, taking everything he wants from you.

“Could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?” he questions you, enjoying the tease, the way he sees your face screw up a little tighter at the very valid point he was making. You’re caught, and there’s no way around it now, he thinks smugly.

Your face falls, eyes going to the ground and watching your feet shift nervously in your heels. “I-I get it. You made your point. I’ll go home, okay? I know I shouldn’t be here -” you stammer out, and the guilty look on your face tells Joel what he’d already suspected - your dad knows absolutely nothing about this job of yours.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Joel says, but he makes no move to get up, keeping a steady, unrelenting gaze on you. When you flick your eyes up to him, he sees they’re watery, and it makes his insides twinge with a strange mixture of regret and pleasure as he sees the tears brimming along the edges of your eyes, the subtle panic he can see growing.

“You’re bein’ very bad, ain’t ya? ” Joel tuts, and you seem to almost flinch at the words from where you awkwardly stand in front of him still, unsure of what to do, where to go. Joel feels that pleasure growing warm in his gut, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “I mean, look at that outfit, sweetheart -” Joel starts with a low whistle, sitting forward slightly so you can see just how much he’s admiring it, his eyes narrowed in inspection, the weathered lines in his face apparent with the way his brows are raised. “Thas’ a far cry from those clothes you wear on my doorstep, play actin’ a good little girl.”

“N-no! I don’t - I didn’t mean - I am good.” You’re more and more visibly flustered, your arms wrapping around yourself as Joel continues to tease you, intent on bringing you down a few more notches.

Joel gives you a condescending glare. “Darlin’, ain’t nothin’ good about this. Lemme tell you what I think…” He leans back again, staring up at you, not once inviting you to sit, and knowing you won’t unless he does - he wants to make you sweat. “You never got to have that rebellious streak w’ both your parents bein’ who they are, did ya? An’ you thought you deserved it, to have a little fun, didn’t you?”

Your lip quivers and you blink back another set of hot, embarrassed tears, eyes trained back on the dark, faux marble floors, refusing to speak.

“Didn’t you?” he asks again with more bite. Fucking brat. Good thing Joel had plenty of tactics up his sleeve to whip a wannabe brat back into a good girl, he thinks with a sly smile to himself.

“Y-yes! Okay? I wanted to do something… for me,” you finally admit, feeling yourself shake a little at his demanding words.

“Now was that so hard?” Joel asks, becoming acutely aware of just how hard he is, almost painfully so now that he’s been teasing you, fantasizing about this moment for far too long. You shake your head, still hung downwards in shame before bringing your eyes back to his. They look soft, youthful and desperate, and Joel has never felt so turned on in his goddamn life, all the power he’s feeling rushing right to his cock.

“J-just… please don’t tell my dad,” you say, almost quiet enough Joel can’t hear it over the distant bump of the music. But he made it out, the words he’d been hoping you’d say, the ones he knew you’d have to utter.

“I won’t,” Joel starts, seeing the relief flood your face, nearly laughing at how quickly you put stock in his words before even hearing what else he has to say. So naive. “But what’s in it for me, hm? Ain’t gonna keep a secret without a little… incentive.” Joel’s hands plant on his thighs, running up the length of them as he watches your emotions shift in real time, your jaw going slack, eyes widening and barely blinking. You just stutter, completely taken aback and Joel had expected as much - you’re too good of a girl to navigate a situation like this. Good thing he already has his next words planned and loaded up to help you along.

“Laps feelin’ mighty empty, y’know…” Joel muses, leaning back and spreading his palms out on the leather couch next to his thighs. You flash your eyes to his legs, then his face again, mouth gaping open, finally realizing just what he’s asking for.

You can’t believe this is happening to you. You should never have taken this job, kept such a big secret from your dad that you knew he’d absolutely kill you for if he found out. You were technically an adult now, but that didn’t mean you could just throw away his rules while you lived at home with him.

And now you were being blackmailed by his friend. His very handsome friend, but you’re trying hard not to think about that right now. There’s no way he’s serious about this, no way he could actually want this from you? The neighbor girl, his friend’s daughter? Mr. Miller had always been kind, just a bit of a grumpy edge to him but he loved to joke around with your dad. You often caught them laughing together, too shy to have inserted yourself enough with someone who made your skin grow hot just from glancing into his dark, chocolate brown eyes. But without that buffer of your dad, here alone in the dim lighting of the club, it was like he’d become another man.

“Y-you want me to…?” you say, blinking hard as you stare at his thick thighs and crotch, all spread wide open. It’s enticing - normally even with an attractive customer you find yourself thinking of it more as work - fun work, but still work. But with Joel… you’d felt heat pooling between your thighs as he observed you this entire conversation, the desire starting to outweigh the embarrassment you were feeling.

“Paid for it, didn’t I?” he remarks practically, a nip of impatience edging his voice as you swallow hard and step forward.

“Y-you don’t have to… we can get a refund if you don’t want me to do it…” you say, trying to remind yourself not to mumble, but your nerves are getting the best of you.

Joel’s head shakes slowly, his hand drifting out smoothly from his body towards you, tenderly locking on to where your wrist dangles at your side and pulls you closer. Closer. Closer, until he’s pulling you down so that you have to bend down, coming face to face with him. Your cheeks burn, breathing heavy and stunted as the tension in the air thickens, his lips so close to yours. You can’t help but glance at them, the inviting curve of his lips drawing you in, but Joel’s eyes are elsewhere, peering down right between your bodies where your tits are on such display for him, spilling out of the bra at this angle.

“Like I said,” he coos softly, eyes obviously drifting up towards your face, “I need a little incentive to not spill your dirty little secret, darlin’.” A smirk grows on his face before he lets go of your wrist, and you stumble backwards a little.

“Y-you -” you stutter again, trying to counter him, but you come up short. “O-okay…” you mutter with a sigh, taking a deep breath before you hesitantly turn around, facing your back to him.

Joel tuts immediately at your lack of enthusiasm. “None of that, gimme the full show, sweetheart, or the deal’s off.”

You huff quietly, taking a few steps away from Joel, readying yourself. He can see the change in your demeanor already, the more confident strides you take before turning around, facing him again. Then you begin your routine, practiced and ready, pacing towards him with a feline, graceful energy, heels clicking on the floor as you slip one leg in front of the other, heading towards him. You almost hesitate, pushing yourself through the doubt as your hand reaches out, grazing along his shoulder, moving inward towards his collarbone.

Your fingers drag along his chest, where one button of his flannel shirt is open, wishing you could delve your whole hand inside and feel the more than likely gorgeous planes of his chest. Christ, he’s so meaty, so thick everywhere you touch.

A soft rumble escapes his chest before you turn around, grinding your ass downwards and then back up, teasing him by getting a little lower each time. But it’s not enough, he knows you’re holding back, your movements a little stilted and awkward. His cell phone is out of his pocket before he can think much more about it, snapping a photo of the way your ass is grinding down towards him, just enough of your side profile in the photo that it’s undeniably you.

“Come on, know you can do better’n that.” Joel clicks his tongue, making you freeze, hovering awkwardly above him. “Do this for a livin’ lord knows how many nights a week. If you ain’t gonna give me what I paid my hard earned money for I can call your daddy right now… maybe jus’ text him this picture. What d’you think about that?” Joel asks, holding his cell phone forward and into your eyesight. You gasp, hands grabbing for it just as he snatches it away.

“D-delete that! Please!” you cry out, feeling panic squeeze at your chest. Fuckfuckfuck you are so thoroughly fucked right now if Joel has photo evidence.

Joel smiles down at his phone, peering at the image one last time before pocketing it. “No can do, sweetheart. Now, I don’t really wanna have to ask again, yeah?”

You only gape at him for a moment longer before snapping your mouth shut and positioning yourself above his lap again. “F-fine. Jesus,” you mutter angrily, finding that the irritation you’re feeling is starting to spur you on as you begin to move again, feeling yourself turned on by Joel’s musk in your space, the heat of his body radiating towards yours in this close proximity. Not to mention you can sense just how turned on he is, how much this is affecting him as you move with more conviction, hips delicately swinging in front of him. If he wants a show, you’ll give him your best yet, you think with determination.

“F-fuck… attagirl,” Joel lets slip when you brush his crotch with your ass. He’s barely holding it together with your curves swaying tantalizingly in front of him, something even his wildest dreams likely couldn’t have conjured up. He’d never think he’d see you like this - so sensual, so fucking gorgeously in control of your sexual aura that it could make a man lose control. Your customers were beyond lucky, he thinks with a pang of jealousy shooting through him, making his blood boil hotter, his possessive side come out. While he’d been at home pining over you, thinking about you with a hand stroking his own cock, you’d been here - rubbing your pretty ass on all those lucky fucks and their undeserving crotches.

The thought makes him insane, the image of you doing this to any other man, so when you lean back against him, pressing your back to his chest, your ass just beginning to grind on his jeans, his hands go to your hips instinctively trying to bring you down onto him, to claim you. You slow your movements to a stop, leaning your head back towards his ear so that you’re almost entirely pressed against him now.

“Not s-supposed to touch,” you say, you voice the only thing giving away just how nervous you still are.

“Don’t fuckin’ care, if I’m honest,” Joel huffs back quietly, his voice husky and breathless. You bite back a moan as his rough hands wrap around each side of your waist tightly and help guide you that last inch downwards, sending your ass fully rolling over his crotch.

“H-holy shit…” you whimper when you feel the rough denim brush along the outside of your panties. You feel a flush run through you, your skin burning hot as you realize you won’t be able to hide how wet you’ve gotten for very long. It began slowly, just with his brooding, questioning eyes on you, now reaching a fever pitch as you’re in his space and feeling the prominent bulge in his pants.

It’s been far too long since you were satisfied. Truly satisfied.

Your breath catches as Joel fingers wiggle inward a little after hearing how much you’re getting into it, even closer to the waistband of your panties, the two of you facilitating the grinding motion together as you bear down a little more on his lap. Joel lets out a pleased hum, still somehow giving you the sense that he’s the one holding back now. His hands still have an air of respect to them, like they’re vibrating with the need to wrap completely around you and pull you to him, to roam your skin and grab at all the forbidden parts of you.

When the thought flashes across your mind, you realize you want him to.

“T-touch me…” you whisper, immediately clamping your betraying mouth shut as the words float out into the air. You hold your breath, waiting to see if Joel heard you.

“What’s that, gorgeous? Couldn’t quite hear you,” Joel says, his tone a low, mocking sound that tells you he’s baiting you, that he wants to play with his food before eating it. Your eyes narrow before they shut completely, rolling back when he forces your ass to move along his bulge again.

“F-fu- touch me,” you spit out a bit louder. “Please.”

“You poor thing,” you hear him tut from behind you, forcing your hips upwards and away before grasping onto your hands, turning you around to face him. “Can’t get us in trouble now, can we?” he asks tauntingly, his eyes giving you a heated staredown as they widen, almost looking sympathetic if there wasn’t so much of an appetite behind them.

You whimper, visibly whining as your face screws up, squeezing his hands with yours. Joel tugs, so lightly that you’d almost think it was your own idea as you start to come back down towards him, pressing the warmth between your legs against his thigh. You sigh shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly swing one leg over top of his and bear down a little more, straddling his thigh.

“We w-won’t… we won’t…” you breathe out, knowing it’s not the complete truth, but room seven is especially tucked back, hardly getting any traffic. In fact, it was known for bending the rules a bit.

“She’s so needy, huh? You all wet for me, sweetheart, that it? She need a little relief?” Joel taunts, and when you open your eyes to meet his gaze, he’s practically pouting. Your cheeks burn at how desperate he’s making you sound, but your hips twitch of their own accord, sending a zing of pleasure up your spine and you whimper quietly again, giving yourself away even further.

“Y-yes, Mr. Miller…”

“Keep on doin’ your little dance, pretty girl, jus’ right there,” Joel urges you, a hand finding the small of your back, the other locked onto your hip as you start to rock forward, then back again. Relief instantly floods you as your clit brushes against the ripples in the hard denim, making you move harder against him, mouth popped open in fresh ecstasy.

“Close that mouth before I shove somethin’ in it, you fuckin’ tease,” Joel grits out, his eyes burning wildly, finally giving you a glimpse at how affected he is as he keeps his stare on your face, starting to sheen with sweat. Your mouth snaps shut, a stifled moan pulling from your throat and behind your closed lips, threatening to burst out of you.

“This ain’t against the rules? Havin’ a pretty girl ride my thigh?” he asks in cruel teasing, flickering eyes glancing down to where your hips are shamelessly rocking on him.

“I- I don’t - know-“ you choke out, your legs starting to tremble as the pleasure slowly, steadily builds deep inside of you. “I d-don’t care…”

“Riiight, she’s on her rebellious streak now, ain’t she?” Joel mutters facetiously, smiling a devious grin as he watches your face screw up in concentration. You truly don’t care, you can’t care anymore when whatever the hell is going on feels so good. Damn this job, damn Joel’s games, you’re going to get what you need out of this right now, too. Your head is thrown back as your whines and moans escalate, showing Joel just how close you’re getting.

“That’s it, god you’re beggin’ for it, ain’t you? So dirty…” Joel’s hands grip tighter along your hips, starting to drag you inwards, towards his aching, clothed bulge. “Beggin’ for your daddy’s friend's cock while you make a mess all over his thigh, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought a good girl like you’d be wantin’ to get fucked by an old man?”

His words make you clench around nothing, the harsh tone making your insides twist in pleasure as you roll your hips a little faster. “F-fuck… I - I need to - Mr. Miller -” you plead aimlessly, feeling your core tightening, the obscene wetness driving you to full on madness as your pussy aches, cries out for Joel.

Your leg is being dragged over top of him, forcing you to fully straddle his lap, thighs stretched wide and burning at how wide you’re going to accommodate his huge frame. You’re in disbelief at the rough, needy noise Joel makes as soon as your cunt is pulled down onto him, Joel’s hands forcing your hips to start thrusting against him. You nearly lose your balance, wrapping your arms around his neck to hang on as he looks at you with determination. Hands planted firmly on your ass, squeezing hard as he relishes in the feel of finally having you like this, feeling your warm heat seeping through his denim right to where he’s desperate to have you most.

“Joel,” he corrects in his haze, stunting your hips to press down hard on his cock, sending a gasp flying out of your mouth at the sheer size of what’s to come. Your mouth is practically watering, so close to what your body craves now, what it needs. When your fingers graze the button of his jeans, he stiffens, seeming to snap out his lustful fog as he swats your hand away.

“Fuck… later,” Joel says suddenly, using every bit of self restraint to push you back, moving your heat from his bulge, the instantaneous lack of you devastating him to the core.

Your brows quickly knit in confusion at the sudden change in course. “W-why…?” you whisper breathlessly, bringing your lips near his neck, kissing the rough skin, working your way up to his patchy, gray flecked beard. His hand is at the back of your head, yanking you backwards by the hair, tearing your lips off of him in a brutal rush. He holds you there, the pull on your scalp starting to prickle harder as you sit staring at him like a tamed animal being held up by its scruff.

“Can’t fuck you properly in here. Too many fuckin’… people. Prying eyes wantin’ to see what all the fuss is about.”

“I-I can be quiet,” you retort, hating just how much it sounds like begging but the hold he has on you right now is so intense, so inexplicable that you’d say anything, you think.

Joel huffs, a tiny, incredulous snort coming out of his nose. “No, you can’t. Not if I’m doin’ what I plan on doin’ to you. We can’t have anyone come snoopin’, can we?”

You shake your head, suddenly wondering if he’s about to drag you out of here, take you home to his bed, or your bed, you think with a shudder. You feel a pull inside your belly, thinking you just might let him if you don’t get your head back on straight soon.

“An’ you still gotta work the rest of your shift, make your money, don’t you babydoll?” Joel says with a smirk growing, making your face fall completely into a deep frown. “Call it a little punishment for bein’ such a bad, naughty girl, yeah? Then you can finish up givin’ me my piece of the pie.”

You find yourself gaping at him for the umpteenth time tonight in disbelief. He wasn’t going to just leave you… like this? Was he? You can feel your clit pulsing against your panties, your body tense and wound up, on the precipice of coming so hard you saw stars only a few moments ago.

“Up, now,” Joel says, shifting his legs so that you’re forced to move, scrambling up onto your shaky legs, feeling like a newborn fawn getting your footing again.

“W-wait… I already - didn’t I… give you what you want?” you ask, suddenly feeling yourself snapping out of the heady, lust filled haze Joel had you in. This was insane, right? You can’t fuck him, you shouldn’t. It wasn’t right for either of you, and you’d been crazy to have just been this close to letting him stuff you full.

Joel’s head tilts, watching your slightly messy hair and smudged makeup for a few beats with a discerning gaze. “Nah, darlin’, you just gave me what I paid for. This is what I want.”

Your heart and stomach sink to new depths. “N-no. Joel! You said… if I gave you the lap dance you wouldn’t tell my dad. And I gave you a hell of a lot more than that -” Joel stands, interrupting you, coming forward and crowding your space, his hulking mass like a tower next to you, shadowing you with his commanding energy.

“Watch your mouth,” he snips, a hand gripping onto your wrist. “I’m the one callin’ the shots here, an’ I changed my mind once I saw just how pretty that sweet little pussy of yours can be. So here’s what’s gonna happen…” Joel’s fingers come up to ghost along your cheek, trailing down your neck, along the swells of your breasts as he speaks. You can’t help but shudder at the attention, how good it feels on your sensitive, needy skin.

“You go on out there, tell ‘em what a great job you did in here, work the rest of your shift like a good girl, thinkin’ about just how fuckin’ wet you got these pretty panties, how bad she needs a little help from Mr. Miller.”

Your breath is caught in your throat at his words, hitching further as his touch skates further down, sending your hips twitching forward.

“An’ I’ll be waitin’ for you after, darlin’, for what I’m owed.”

Your heart pounds as you slip out the side door and into the alleyway, pausing to let the cool night air wash over you as you gather your thoughts. Your mind is at war with itself, one half of you knowing this is a terrible idea, setting you up for complete disaster in the future. How could you ever face Joel again if you two took it that far? Then again, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to face him in the daylight already, anyways, without your cheeks burning so hot they caught fire. The other half of you was winning, had been winning as you worked the rest of your shift in a complete daze, hardly recognizing your own movements as your body burned hot and needy, mind completely scrambled by the conundrum of your father’s closest friend coming onto you and more.

You spent the rest of your shift coming to terms with the fact that you do want to fuck him. So badly. Even if it’s wrong, a complete mistake in every single way. You also know your mind isn’t to be trusted right now, running on pure horniness and desperation, never having been fucked in the way you know Joel could. His experience, his power, the way his lustful eyes had drank you in like the sweetest balm - it was all too hard to turn down. You turn, looking the opposite way down the alleyway from your car, starting to think you might be able to sneak around the block and get in your car and drive off without him noticing, wondering exactly where he’s waiting for you. You don’t see a soul, hear anyone else in this alley apart from the distant music from inside and chatter from along the main street which is a far cry from where the employee exit to Oasis dropped you.

You take the risk, heart thrumming wildly as you start down the alley, saying a silent apology to Joel in your head, and then yourself for letting this secret come out, knowing Joel was definitely not bluffing if you didn’t follow through on your end of the deal. Better to face punishment from your father than have to deal with the consequences of fucking his best friend and facing the feelings that would come after. You’re only halfway down the alleyway before a warm, rough hand is slapped against your mouth and an arm is draped around your middle and tugging you backwards. A wall of muscle meets you and you whimper loudly behind the hand, starting to yell.

“Shh, shh, no screamin’,” the voice coos, distinctly recognizable. Shit.

“Tryna sneak off on me, huh, pretty girl?” Joel says next to your ear, his neck craning down to breathe you in, groaning. It’s so feminine, so light and soft, the faded scent of your perfume and body wash makes him instantly mad with need for you. His hand slips down, giving your lips some room to answer now that you’ve stopped fighting him, leaning back into his hold a little more.

“N-no,” you choke out, lying. “S-swear.”

“Didn’t change your mind? Want me to send those pretty pictures to your daddy?” Joel coos, starting to walk you towards the brick wall of the building, pushing your body forwards until you’re pressed against the cool, scratchy surface. You hold back a moan when his body leans into you fully, completely dominating you as you’re at his mercy against the wall.

“I j-just d-don’t think we should -” you utter half heartedly, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, fearing what might come next after your suggestion.

“Why’s that?” he asks, dripping with condescension. “Seemed you couldn’t wait to get stuffed full of me not too long ago, yeah?”

“I-it’ll be weird after, w-won’t it? How can we… be around my dad? How can you?” You finally find your voice, your bravery, to ask him the question you’d been thinking the entire night.

A small chuckle blows past the side of your head from where Joel’s mouth sits against your head. “Think we both learned tonight I’m willin’ to keep a secret,” he says, his voice getting more harsh, a needy coarseness to it that sends goosebumps along your skin. Joel feels a frenzy overcoming him when he notices your thighs clenching, how shallow and wanting your breaths are becoming now. He can’t wait much longer… can’t stand the torture he’s endured at your sweet teasing for a second longer.

“I-I want it…” you finally say in a harsh whisper, your resolve faded within seconds. Your ass ruts back into his hardness, an ache that hadn’t subsided in the least in the last hours as he waited for you. Patiently. Like he had already been all of these months.

“You know I’m gonna ruin anyone else f’you, darlin’, don’t you?” he asks as his lips trace along your shoulder, now clad in a tank top that you’d changed back into. The bits of bare skin he touches taste like heaven, feel almost unbearably soft and inviting against his plush lips. He couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, but he couldn’t help but take it, anyhow. He could pay for his sins later. Your neck is next on his list, another supple spot of heaven to taste as he mutters the words again. “Don’t you?”

You just nod at first, dumbstruck by the feel of his lips, turning your head to try to meet them. “Yes,” you tell him softly, knowing it’s the truth, and there isn’t a turning back from this moment anymore. His lips are suddenly all there is, devouring your own whole as he takes in bounds, your tongues and teeth and mouths in a desperate clash, panting into one another as Joel starts to tug at your jeans, fingers flying desperately to tear them down.

You let him.

The second he’s pushing into you, you see bright white flash across your vision - that pulse of pain shooting through the very fabric of your being, your nerves lit up and screaming out from deep inside of you. Joel’s groan is barely audible through the ringing in your ears as he doesn’t stop, finding solace in your tight heat when he pushes himself into you in full. It’s heaven incarnate, you are heaven incarnate, he thinks, practically panting out the words as he feels your wet tightness pulling him in, walls pulsing as you adjust to the sheer volume that is Joel. Your cheek is crushed against the brick, mouth propped open in shock, the rough scrape on your face the only thing keeping you grounded as you whine out a long, wanton sound, something completely foreign to you.

“So… fuckin’... dumb on this cock,” Joel utters as he starts to move, a slow drag of his cock out and back in before he makes good on his promise to ruin anyone else for you, to never have a comparison to the blinding pleasure you feel rocking your entire universe as he quickly ruts into you. “Fuckin’ heaven.”

“J- fuck -” you stutter out, completely speechless. When one arm wraps around you, finding your clit, needy and puffy from hours of torturous edging, everything else melts away. The dark alley, the fact that you could be seen at any moment, the way you weren’t even sure you trusted Joel to keep your secret despite you following through on your end - none of it fucking mattered anymore.

“W-wanted this so bad, y’don’t know what you do to a man, sweetheart… Jesus fuck,” Joel says, uncharacteristically soft as his hips roll, sending your own bouncing onto his hurried fingers swirling along your clit. Desperation clings to the both of you now, hot and heavy air, hurried movements like this could be torn away from the two of you any second.

“Joel… I’m fu- I’m close, so close, please…” you rush out, feeling a pull of warmth at your center, his cock brushing along just the right spot to send you to that edge. You start to moan louder, the noise echoing in the open space around the two of you, your hand hurriedly slapping over your mouth to muffle it as the high starts to rock through you. His name screams from behind your hand, the sound still clear enough to send Joel to a state of crazed fervor, thrusting into you at an impossible pace, sending you bouncing harder against the wall. You twitch and shake, your eyes rolling back as you come harder than you have in months, maybe ever. Just like he’d promised, the absolute bastard.

“Fuckin’ creamin’ on this cock, shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” Joel marvels breathlessly as the obscene squelching of your bodies meeting only gets louder. “Oh, good girl, such a pretty, messy slut for a dirty old man, aren’t you?”

“G-god, yes, fuck… I am…” you whimper out with flustered nods, completely spent as you come down from your high, letting Joel use your cunt to chase his own now. You twitch at the overstimulation, your body still tingling pleasantly as he turns you into his own personal fuck toy, your body his for the taking.

“Pretty as a picture, all fucked out like this,” he says slyly one hand planted on the wall next to you now, the other playing lazily with your aching clit. “Never gonna be able to give me up now, are you?”

You shake your head, lost in the moment with your answers as you feel another orgasm washing over you, less intense but still pleasant waves of pleasure rolling through while you gasp for breath, completely full of Joel each time he thrusts heartily into you, stealing away your air.

“Please… c-can’t…” you mumble through your climax, hardly able to take the stimulation anymore but knowing the sick little part of your brain is happy to do it for him, let him use you until he’s completely spent himself.

You don’t have to wait much longer for your wish, hearing Joel grunting, almost whimpering when he’s suddenly gone from you with a wet, slick pop, leaving you cavernous empty. He barely makes it out of you before his hand grips his cock, twitching in his palm as he comes towards the ground right in between your legs, ropes of cum coating your pulled down jeans and underwear, the brick wall, the pavement below you. His forehead is pressed to your back, sticky and hot as he catches his breath for a silent beat.

You’ve never felt anything like this, this satisfaction, this pure unadulterated filthiness and pleasure. The addiction already grips you, your poor, sore cunt already anticipating the next time he could ruin you.

But then it hits you like a train, pulling you out of your reverent little bubble - this can’t happen again. It’s out of your system, out of his, and now you both have a secret to keep. You start to pull your pants up, the movement seeming to bring Joel to his senses, reaching down along with you.

“Sh-shit, here, let me,” he says in a rasp, tugging your jeans up, the immediate feeling of wetness sticking to your body and making you cringe. “Little souvenir for ya,” he comments cockily, knowing his cum is now sticking to your skin, knowing that thought will sustain him for at least the next few hours. But that’s wishful thinking, he realizes, knowing that he could find himself buried in you the entire night, over and over again, considering hauling you away to do just that when you interrupt his thinking.

“I- I’m sorry…” you mutter, not even fully sure of why you even say it. For some reason, you are sorry that you put the two of you in this position, even if it ended in something so incredible that you have a hard time even putting it into words.

Joel spins you to face him, thumbing your chin and pinching it, bringing your face to look him in the eyes. They look a little softer than they had inside the club, more like the neighbor you’ve come to know. So charming and disarming when he wants to be.

“Don’t be,” he says, leaning down to kiss you more gently than he had before, something tender and sweet that you find yourself immediately falling for, body melting into his as you hang your arms around his neck, wondering when along the way you started feeling so comfortable with this.

“Besides,” Joel adds, a devious smirk pulling his lips upwards. “Your daddy ain’t home for a few more days. Think we can find a few more ways to convince me to keep your little secret.”

2K notes · View notes

urmomsmattress · 7 days ago

Text

Bottoms Up

bfd!Joel Miller x bfstepdad!Arthur Morgan x f!reader//7.1k

summary: a threesome sex pollen fic where two men kiss

warnings: mdni, 18+, 2 dicks one hole (I am not going for realism this is a sex pollen fic) reader is tipsy, oral m! and f! receiving, alcohol, sex pollen, age gap (reader is in college, make the men however old you want but they are dad's to a college-age girl), Arthur is married Joel is not, shitty moodboard

notes: this is for @yxtkiwiyxt 's nhie challenge. My prompt was never have I ever hooked up at a party with Joel Miller. If any of these warnings or the summary put you off, please move on and do not put yourself through this. A big huge thank you to my baby @thundermartini for holding my hand big on this one, sitting with me through my always never-ending moodboard crisis, helping with the title last minute, cheering me on, reading the smut, listening to me talk about this in between the other 5 million fics I have going for like a month and a half, and just being such an amazing human always I love you more than you know <3 A massive thank you to @arcanefox207 for beta-ing this bad boy on such short notice, being such a wonderful human and hyping me up, and an equally massive thank you to @itwasntimethatdidit40 for reading this as well, being a huge cheerleader always for me and the sweetest lovebug. And of course thank you a million times to @almostempty for giving me the entire sex pollen idea and how to incorporate it. I love you all so very much!! <3 And tysm @/keerysquinnpage on pinterest for the pictures of naked men

masterlist

The evening air is cool, slipping through the cracked kitchen window as Joel rinses a coffee mug under the faucet. The quiet hum of the fridge is the only sound in the house, a rare moment of stillness since Sarah moved in for college. He doesn’t mind the mess she brings with her—the stray notebooks on the kitchen counter, the piles of laundry that seem to multiply like rabbits—but it means his nights often end like this, cleaning up after her, one piece of chaos at a time.

He glances toward the trash can, where the lid doesn’t sit flush. With a low grunt, he tugs the can out, ready to take it to the curb, but as he reaches for the liner, something crumpled catches his eye. His brows knit together as he pulls out the wadded piece of paper. Smoothing it against the counter, his frown deepens.

It’s a flyer. Bright neon colors advertise a college party—cheap beer, loud music, and the promise of bad decisions. His gut tightens as he reads the details. The address is printed at the bottom and the date and time stand out like a glaring warning sign: Tonight. 9 PM. Joel glances at the clock on the microwave—it’s already past ten.

His stomach tightens.

Sarah hasn’t mentioned anything about going to a party. She’s been quiet all evening, coming home from class and heading straight to her room, earbuds in, barely mumbling a “hey” when he asked if she’d eaten dinner.

Joel runs a hand over his beard, staring at the flyer like it might offer some explanation. A dozen thoughts flood his mind- the packed rooms, the loud music, the drunk kids stumbling into each other. He can almost see Sarah in the middle of it all—maybe drinking something she shouldn’t be, maybe with a boy who has no business being near her.

“Dammit, Sarah,” he mutters under his breath, tossing the flyer back onto the counter. His fingers itch toward his phone, and before he can second-guess himself, he hits the contact for her mom.

The phone rings twice before she picks up, her voice warm but wary, the way it always is when Joel calls unexpectedly. “Hey, Joel. What’s going on?”

“Have you heard from Sarah tonight?” he asks, skipping past the pleasantries.

There’s a pause. “No, why?”

Joel exhales, gripping the edge of the counter. “She’s not here. Found a damn party flyer in the trash. Looks like it’s tonight. Think she’s there.”

Another pause, followed by a sigh. “Joel, she’s in college. Going to parties is part of the experience.”

“Yeah, and it’s part of the experience to make dumbass choices, too,” he shoots back, pacing the kitchen. “You know what these things are like. Cheap booze, god knows what else floatin' around. She doesn’t belong there.”

“She’s not a kid anymore, Joel,” her mom replies, her tone calm but firm. “She’s responsible enough to know her limits.”

“Responsible?” Joel lets out a sharp laugh. “She didn’t even tell me she was goin' out. Doesn't sound responsible to me.”

“You can’t hover over her every second,” she snaps, her patience clearly thinning. “She’s figuring things out. You need to let her.”

Joel clenches his teeth, his grip on the phone tightening. “You call carin' about her hovering? I’m just tryna make sure she’s safe.”

“And I’m telling you she is,” her mom says, exhaling sharply. “Joel, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy with this. Let her have her fun.”

Before Joel can respond, she hangs up. He pulls the phone from his ear and stares at the screen, his jaw clenching as frustration boils in his chest. Let her have her fun. The words echo in his mind, making his stomach churn. Maybe her mom can sit back and hope for the best, but Joel can’t. He won’t.

Pulling his jacket off the back of a chair, he grabs his keys and heads for the door. If Sarah is at that party, he’s going to find her. And she damn well better have a good explanation.

_____________________________

Arthur shifts in his chair, the leather creaking softly as he glances over the edge of his book. He isn’t much of a reader—hell, Sarah’s mom teases him often enough about that—but every now and then, he likes the quiet. The house is calm tonight, the kind of calm that doesn’t come around much these days.

Across the room, she scrolls through her phone, half-watching one of those reality shows she claims to hate but never misses. It’s nice, Arthur thinks, this kind of simple peace.

Then her phone rings.

Arthur watches her pick it up, her brow furrowing slightly as she glances at the caller ID. “It’s Joel,” she mutters, swiping to answer.

Arthur sets his book down, leaning back as the conversation begins. He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. He can’t hear Joel’s words, but he can imagine them—gruff, insistent, probably pacing a hole into the floor on the other end of the line.

When she finally hangs up, she lets out an exasperated sigh, tossing the phone onto the coffee table.

“Let me guess,” Arthur drawls, his voice tinged with amusement. “Joel’s got his panties in a twist?”

Her lips twitch, but she shakes her head. “He found some party flyer in the trash. Thinks Sarah’s there and is acting like it’s the end of the world.”

Arthur snorts, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Sounds ‘bout right. Man’s wound tighter than a spring.”

“It’s exhausting,” she admits, leaning back into the couch. “I told him she’s fine. She’s not a kid anymore.”

Arthur nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe. But Joel’s got his reasons for worryin'. Can’t say I don’t see his point.”

She gives him a sharp look. “Don’t tell me you’re siding with him all of the sudden.”

Arthur shrugs, standing and stretching as he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair followed by his hat. “Ain’t about takin' sides. But if he’s worried enough to call, maybe there’s somethin' to it. Kids these days, parties like that—” He shakes his head. “Best not to assume it’s all harmless fun.”

Her frown deepens. “You’re not seriously thinking of going, are you?”

Arthur shoots her a crooked grin, pulling on his jacket. “Well, somebody oughta make sure Joel don't storm in there like a damn cavalry charge.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, muttering something under her breath as he grabs his keys.

As he steps outside, the cool night air hits his face. He slides into his truck, glancing briefly at the dashboard before starting the engine. Joel is probably halfway to the party already, tense as a coiled snake. Arthur can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips.

Guess I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t make a damn fool of himself.

The closer Joel gets to the party, the more his unease builds. He can hear the music from blocks away, the thrum of bass vibrating through his chest. His gut twists, each beat of the song an irritating reminder that his daughter, his baby girl, is likely in there somewhere. He parks his truck and steps out into the loud, chaotic scene.

The house is a mess from the outside, students drunkenly spilling out of the door and onto the front lawn, some of them barely keeping their balance. The closer he gets, the worse the place is—loud and cluttered with more students than Joel can count. He can already feel his blood pressure rising. As he reaches the front steps, a wiry kid in a tank top and backward cap blocks his path. The kid can’t be older than twenty-one and is clearly drunk, his glassy eyes scanning Joel with exaggerated scrutiny.

“Whoa, whoa, dude, hold up,” the kid slurs, holding up a hand. “You can’t just storm in here lookin' like that. You’re way too tense, man. Party vibes only.”

Joel frowns, his patience already running thin. “I ain’t here to party. I’m here to pick up my daughter.”

The kid squints at him, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Nah, nah, can’t let you in all mad like that. House rules, bro. You gotta chill first. Like, take a shot, loosen up, and then you can go find whoever.”

Joel stares at him, his expression hardening. “I don’t have time for this. Move.”

But the kid holds firm, producing a tray of bright green jello shots with a flourish. “No shot, no entry. That’s the rule. C’mon, man, it’s just jello. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Joel exhales sharply through his nose, his patience worn to a thread. The kid in front of him sways slightly, the jello shots jiggling on the tray as he grins like he’s just presented the best damn solution in the world.

Joel doesn’t have time for this. He’s about to shove past the guy when a familiar voice cuts through the noise behind him.

"Well, ain't this a sight."

Joel turns just as Arthur steps up beside him, hands in the pockets of his jacket, that damn cowboy hat sitting low on his head like he owns the place.

Joel hates that hat. He’s hated it since the first time he saw it, sitting smug as hell atop Arthur’s head like some declaration of personality. The damn thing makes Arthur look too at ease, too comfortable in any situation—including this one.

The kid grins wider, apparently delighted by the addition of another older man to his party obstacle course. “Ayyy, two-for-one deal! Y’all both gotta take one. House rules, bros.”

Arthur glances at the jello shots and then at Joel. “You gonna play nice, or you plannin’ to deck this poor bastard?”

Joel glares. “I ain’t here for games.”

Arthur hums, clearly entertained. He plucks one of the tiny plastic cups off the tray, holding it up like he’s appraising fine liquor. “Hell, Miller, might as well get in the spirit.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. He is not in the mood for this nonsense, but Arthur’s already tipping the shot back, his expression unreadable as he swallows. A beat later, he clears his throat, grimacing. “That’s awful.”

The kid cheers like Arthur just won some kind of prize. “Hell yeah! Your turn, grumpy dude.” He shoves the tray toward Joel again, jiggling it obnoxiously.

Joel eyes the tiny cup like it personally offended him. His fingers curl into fists at his sides. Every second he spends out here, Sarah could be getting into trouble inside. He doesn’t trust these kids, doesn’t trust the booze, doesn’t trust any of this.

Arthur nudges him with an elbow. “C’mon, Miller. Ain’t gonna kill ya.”

Joel exhales through gritted teeth. Fine. If it gets this dumbass out of his way faster.

He snatches a shot from the tray, tilts his head back, and swallows it in one go.

Immediately, regret slams into him.

It’s sickly sweet and burns in a way that doesn’t belong in jello. His face contorts, and beside him, Arthur lets out a wheezing laugh. “Oh, that’s just nasty.”

Joel coughs once, shoving the empty cup back at the kid. “Happy?”

The kid fist pumps like a proud parent. “Vibe check complete, my dudes! Go forth and party.”

Joel doesn’t waste another second. He brushes past him, Arthur following close behind. The second they step inside, the heat and smell hit him—cheap beer, sweat, and something suspiciously skunky in the air. The bass rattles his ribs, and the sheer amount of people crammed into the space makes his pulse spike.

Arthur whistles low, glancing around. “Damn. Brings back memories.”

Joel ignores him.

Arthur sighs, rolling his eyes. “Right, then. Let’s go huntin’ hound dog.”

“Have you seen Sarah Miller?” Joel asks a couple of people milling about the entryway, but no one knows where she is. Some give him blank stares, others are too drunk to respond properly. His patience is thin.

He scans the crowd, eyes darting from room to room, trying to catch sight of her. The music pulses in his ears, every movement around him only adding to the feeling that everything is spiraling out of his control. Where the hell are you, Sarah?

A few steps into the living room, Joel freezes. His name cuts through the noise like a knife.

“Well, well. Joel Miller, at a college party. Never thought I’d see the day.” The voice is unmistakable—playful, familiar, and laced with just enough teasing to make his jaw clench. Joel turns, his eyes landing on you, Sarah's friend.

You’re leaning casually against the wall, a red plastic cup in hand, looking far too amused for his liking.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Joel demands, stepping closer, his tone sharp but quiet enough not to draw attention.

You shrug, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “Same thing everyone else is doing. Relaxing, having a good time. You should try it sometime.”

Joel’s scowl deepens. “I ain’t here for that.”

“Figured.” You sip your drink, your gaze never leaving his. “Lemme guess. Sarah?”

He nods tightly. “You seen her?”

“Maybe.” You tilt your head, there's a playful glint in your eyes. “What’s it worth to you?”

Joel lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand over his face. “This ain’t the time for games, darlin’.”

You laugh softly, setting your cup down. “Relax, Joel. I’ll help you find her. You know,” you say, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you lean in slightly, “you clean up nice. Didn’t realize you’d turned into such a hot daddy.”

Arthur immediately coughs—more like chokes—his hand flying to his mouth as he fights to hold back laughter. “Oh-ho, now this is gettin’ good.”

Joel’s jaw drops slightly, his ears burning. “The hell did you just say?”

“You heard me,” you reply, unfazed. “Hot. Daddy. Don’t act so surprised—it’s a compliment.”

Arthur slaps a hand on Joel’s shoulder, grinning like a damn fool. “You know, Miller, I've been sayin’ you were gettin’ a little too soft in the middle. Guess the young folks got a name for it now.”

Joel looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole. “You’re both somethin’ else, you know that?”

Arthur leans in slightly, smirking. “Yeah, well, guess that makes you Daddy Miller now.”

Joel’s groan drowns out your laughter as he rubs his face. “I swear to god—”

“Oh, c’mon, Daddy,” you tease, winking. “Let’s find your kid before you have an aneurysm.”

Arthur, still grinning, tips his hat. “Lead the way, darlin’.”

Joel barely has time to recover from your teasing before you grab his arm and start weaving through the crowd. His gruff protests are swallowed by the thumping bass and the loud laughter of drunken college kids. He follows reluctantly, still fuming but unable to shake the warmth spreading over his cheeks from your earlier comment.

“Where’d you see her last?” he asks, his voice low as his eyes dart around the chaotic scene.

You glance over your shoulder, smirking. “Patience, Joel. I’m working on it. You’re like a bloodhound, you know that? Just sniffing out trouble.”

He shoots Arthur a glare. “You comin’ or just standin’ there lookin’ smug?”

Arthur’s smirk widens as he follows. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Joel pushes through the crowd with Arthur close behind, his jaw clenched so tight it’s a miracle he hasn’t cracked a tooth. The bass rattles the floor beneath his boots, the house packed shoulder to shoulder with college kids shouting over the music, some already sloppy-drunk and stumbling. Every second that ticks by without finding Sarah makes his chest tighten, but what’s almost as frustrating is the bastard at his side.

Arthur, the smug son of a bitch, is clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Well,” Arthur drawls as they push past a couple making out against the staircase banister. “If ya told me you wanted to relive your youth, I’d have suggested a saloon instead of a damn frat house.”

Joel shoots him a glare, but Arthur just grins, scanning the room like he’s actually enjoying himself. “This ain’t a joke, Morgan.”

“Didn’t say it was. But you gotta admit—” Arthur gestures at the chaos, some kid throwing up into a plastic cup a few feet away, “—it’s pretty damn funny.”

Joel exhales sharply, fighting the urge to deck him. “Only thing funny is how I keep puttin’ up with your shit.”

Arthur smirks. “Aw, you’d miss me if I was gone.”

“Like I’d miss a damn splinter.”

Their back-and-forth is interrupted when a girl stumbles into Joel’s side, nearly spilling her drink down his shirt. She blinks up at him, eyes glassy, then lets out a breathless laugh. “Oh my god. You guys are, like, way too old to be here. Are you professors?”

Arthur lets out a barking laugh before Joel can answer. “Somethin’ like that, sweetheart.”

Joel shakes his head, muttering under his breath, and keeps moving. Arthur follows, still smirking, but then you step into their path, that mischievous glint in your eye returning as you block their way.

“Boys, please.” you say, arms folding across your chest.

Joel exhales sharply. “You know where she is or not?”

You hum, tilting your head, letting the tension stretch just a little longer. “Maybe.”

Arthur snorts. “She’s messin’ with ya.”

You flash him a grin. “Maybe I just like seeing Joel all worked up.”

Arthur laughs, shaking his head. “You ain’t the first.”

Joel rolls his eyes.

You step closer with a knowing grin. “Pretty sure she went upstairs.”

Joel stiffens, scanning the crowded staircase. His gut twists. Upstairs could mean anything—she could be safe, just hanging out, or she could be caught up in something way worse.

“I’ll check,” he mutters, already moving toward the stairs.

Arthur’s about to follow, but Joel shakes his head. “We cover more ground if we split up. Keep lookin’ down here.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I get to stumble ‘round in a damn sea of drunk fools while you get to skulk off someplace nice and quiet?”

Joel shoots him a look. “You’d rather deal with the mess up there?”

Arthur considers, then sighs dramatically. “Fine. But if I get puked on, I’m makin’ you buy me a new damn coat.”

Joel just grunts, already halfway up the stairs, while Arthur turns back to the party. The moment you reach the second floor, the thumping bass fades slightly. The air is cooler up here, the chaos of the party reduced to muffled echoes below.

Joel glances back at you, suspicion in his gaze. “Where?”

You nod down the hall. “Last door on the left.”

Joel doesn’t waste a second, pushing forward. You follow, letting him step inside first. The moment he’s over the threshold, you swing the door shut behind you with a quiet click.

Joel turns, frowning. “What—?”

“She’s not up here.”

His brows knit together, realization settling in. “What the hell, darlin’?”

You take a slow step forward, and Joel—big, brooding, and absolutely clueless—actually takes a step back and sits on the bed.

“You seemed stressed,” you say lightly, tilting your head. “Figured you could use a break.”

Joel exhales sharply, shaking his head. “This ain’t funny.”

“Who’s joking?” You step closer, close enough that he can smell whatever sweet perfume clings to your skin. “Arthur can keep himself busy for a little while. And you… you look like you could use some help loosening up.”

Joel’s jaw ticks, his hands flexing at his sides. “Ain’t happenin’.”

You smirk. “Sure about that?”

Suddenly, the room tilts—not in a drunken, careless way, but in a slow, creeping blur. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, broad shoulders rising and falling with unsteady breaths. His shirt hangs open at the top, sweat beads at his temple, and his fingers dig into the mattress like he’s holding onto the last thread of his sanity.

Something is wrong.

You stand in front of him, warmth blooming in your chest—not from alcohol, but from the way he looks at you. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his entire body wound so tight he looks ready to snap. He looks wrecked.

“Joel,” you murmur, stepping between his knees. Your fingers trail along his jaw, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. “You feeling alright?”

His throat bobs with a hard swallow, his whole body rigid beneath your touch. “Somethin’ ain’t right,” he rasps, voice thick with strain. “Shouldn’t be feelin’ this way.”

You smirk, dragging your fingers lower over the pulse hammering in his throat. “Feel what way?”

His jaw flexes, eyes darting away, searching for an anchor—something to ground him. But control is slipping through his fingers like sand.

“You,” he grits out, voice thick and strained. “You smell so damn good.”

Your grin widens, emboldened by the way his hands twitch at his sides, like he’s resisting the urge to grab you. “Maybe that’s just you finally admitting you want me.”

A low, ragged growl rumbles in his throat. Before you can tease him further, his hands shoot up, gripping your hips with a desperation that wasn’t there before.

“Don’t play with me, darlin’,” he warns, though the heat behind it is fading fast, cracking into something more vulnerable. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his pupils dark pools of hunger and confusion. “I—I can’t think straight.”

You lean in, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Then don’t think.”

Joel exhales sharply, body trembling beneath your touch, every muscle wound tight like a drawn bowstring.

Then the door creaks open.

“What in the hell?”

Arthur’s voice slams into the moment like a bucket of ice water.

Joel curses under his breath, hands jerking away from you like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. You turn to find Arthur standing in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, his expression shifting rapidly from bewilderment to something sharper, more knowing. His sharp gaze flickers between you and Joel, taking in his disheveled state—the sweat at his temple, the way his chest heaves like he’s run a mile.

Arthur’s frown deepens. “You wanna explain why Miller looks like he’s ‘bout to keel over?”

Joel groans, squeezing his eyes shut, like he’s fighting off some invisible force. “Somethin’ was in those damn shots.”

Arthur’s face darkens. His jaw tightens, his hand dragging down his face as the realization clicks into place. “Oh, for fuck sakes.”

For the first time, you notice it—how Arthur's fingers flex restlessly at his sides, the faint flush creeping up his neck. The way his throat bobs when he swallows, like something is catching there, thick and unshakable.

You bite your lip, watching as Arthur exhales sharply. His usual composure cracking, just enough to reveal the heat flickering behind his gaze, the same one you just saw in Joel’s.

Arthur clenches his jaw, shaking his head like he can force away the sensation clawing its way up his spine. “This ain't happenin’,” he mutters under his breath, pacing in short, jerky steps, his boots scuffing against the floor.

But you see it. His fingers flex like he’s itching to touch. His gaze flickers to you, then to Joel, then back again, lingering just a second too long. He’s trying—god, he’s trying—to hold himself together, but his breath comes faster and his muscles tense beneath his shirt.

“Arthur,” you murmur, stepping toward him. Your fingers ghost over his arm, stopping his restless pacing. His muscles jump beneath your touch, his jaw locking tight as he flinches back like you’ve burned him.

“Are you feeling it too?”

A sharp inhale. A pause.

Then, in a voice stretched thin with restraint, he rasps, “Don’t.”

But there’s no real bite to it—just a desperate, fraying edge. His pupils are blown wide. His nostrils flare as his gaze flickers around the room—searching for control, finding none.

"You say that," you murmur, dragging your fingers down his chest, slow, teasing. "But you feel it too, don't you?"

Arthur’s pulse throbs under your fingertips, hot against your skin. His breath is uneven. “Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.” The words break off, swallowed by a tightness in his throat that says more than he can put into words. “‘Bout—” He cuts himself off, like just the thought of it is too much.The way he trembles, the way his eyes darken—they’re confirmation enough.

You trace his torso before feeling the undeniable bulge beneath his jeans.

He tenses. A sharp inhale punches out of his lungs. His hips jerk forward instinctively, the thick heat of him twitching under your touch, seeping through the denim.

Arthur lets out a low, muttered curse, his resolve shattering like glass. Before you can say another word, his hands are on you.

It’s sudden—like a dam breaking. His grip is firm, almost bruising, as he yanks you in, crashing his lips against yours. Heat ignites in your veins, scorching and insatiable. You melt into him, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. He groans into your mouth,his hands anchoring you to him, pressing you flush against him.

Behind you, Joel makes a strangled, guttural noise—something raw, something starved.

Arthur finally pulls away, his breath ragged. His forehead presses against yours, hands locked around your hips like letting go isn’t an option. His grip is possessive, claiming.

But Joel isn’t about to be left behind.

He exhales shakily, hesitation flickering in his gaze for only a second before he’s on his feet.

He closes the distance in a single step, his fingers threading into your hair, tilting your face up. And then his mouth meets yours. It’s different from Arthur—deeper, rougher, edged with something raw and desperate. His grip is sure, his hands sliding down your body, pulling you flush against him like he needs to feel every inch of you, needs to brand himself into you.

Arthur shifts behind you, a low scoff slipping past his lips. “Oh, come on, Miller.” His voice is rough, breathless, and laced with utter need. “You kissin’ her or tryin’ to romance her?”

Joel pulls back just enough to glare at him. “Least I know how to take my time, Morgan. You just gonna stand there and watch, or you gonna do somethin’?”

Arthur’s smirk is sharp as a blade. “You askin’ me to show you how it’s done?”

Before you can blink, Arthur’s hands are on you again, gripping your hips so fast your head spins. He tugs you against him, chest flush to your back, his breath hot against your ear.

“You wanna be handled right, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin. “You come to me.”

You feel it—the heat, the desperation, the all-consuming ache that quickly becomes unbearable. This isn’t just lust. It’s chemical. Something unnatural coils through their veins, winding tighter and tighter. Their hunger intensifies until it borders on agony.

“Sweetheart, you gotta tell us—" Arthur's hips jerk forward rolling against you and a strangled grunt slips from him. "—gotta tell us it’s okay, ‘cause I can’t, won’t be able to stop."

Your stomach clenches. The sharp spike of arousal sends a pulse of heat straight between your legs. They’re breaking apart, and it’s because of you.

You swallow hard, “I don’t want you to stop.”

Arthur hands are on you in a flash, tearing at your clothes like patience is a thing of the past. His lips scorch a path across your skin, demanding and relentless as his tongue explores every inch of you. He pants like he’s drowning and needs you to breathe.

Joel is no better. His large hands roam over your body, shoving under your shirt, his fingers greedily grabbing and kneading your skin.

“Darlin’, we gotta get this off,” Joel mutters, voice thick with need.

Arthur growls, yanking your shirt up and ripping it over your head in one rough motion, fabric flying to the floor. Your bra is next, unclasped in a single tug, his calloused hands immediately covering your bare skin, kneading your breasts, thumbs swiping over your stiffening nipples.

“You’re so goddamn soft,” Arthur rasps, voice wrecked, his palms mapping every inch of you.

Joel presses his lips to your skin, tongue teasing your nipples with slow, deliberate flicks before sealing around them with a hot, insistent pull. His hands trail heat down your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans. He pulls back with a wet pop, breath warm against your skin. “Ain’t fair, Morgan. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Joel growls, shoving your jeans down, gripping your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp.

Arthur’s fingers skim lower, finding you already soaked. His grin widens. “Fuck, sweetheart, you really want this, huh?”

“Yeah? How wet is she?”

Arthur drags his fingers through your slick folds before flicking his gaze to Joel, smug. “Why don’t you feel for yourself?”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. His hand joins Arthur’s between your legs, their fingers brushing, both of them feeling just how desperate you are.

A sharp inhale escapes you. The sensation—both their hands on you, teasing, possessive—sends a shock of pleasure straight through you.

Arthur chuckles, thick with satisfaction. “Damn. You feel that?”

Joel exhales sharply, grip tightening. “Oh yeah,” he grits out. “Feel that sweet cunt droolin’ for us.”

His fingers slip inside you, stretching you open, coaxing a moan from deep in your throat. Arthur watches, dark eyes hungry. “Gotta admit, I like hearin’ you make those sounds sweetheart.”

Joel scoffs. “Least I’m makin’ her moan.”

Arthur growls, fingers moving faster, pushing Joel’s aside like he’s reclaiming what’s his. “Let’s see who gets her beggin’ first.”

Both men grin, dark and satisfied, fingers still teasing through your slick folds. “Think she likes bein’ between us.”

Joel’s eyes burn as he watches Arthur’s hand disappear between your thighs. His jaw tightens. “Quit runnin’ your damn mouth and do somethin’.”

Arthur just smirks, fingers hooking into your panties and yanking them down, damp fabric sliding over your thighs.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream.” Joel murmurs.

Arthur scoffs. “Ain’t just gonna tell her. She deserves to feel it too.”

Joel steps back, eyes dragging over your body, chest rising and falling heavily. Arthur does the same, lips parted, a groan slipping from his throat.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Arthur mutters, fingers tracing the swell of your breasts, down the curve of your waist. “Ain’t never seen anythin’ prettier.”

Joel hums in agreement, hands following the same path, like he needs to memorize every inch of you.

Arthur’s the first to move, unbuckling his belt with a swift pull, letting it drop with a heavy clink. He shoves his jeans and boxers down, stepping free. Your breath catches.

Not to be outdone, Joel shrugs off his shirt, muscles flexing as he makes quick work of his jeans. When they fall, your mouth goes dry.

They’re both… big.

A nervous thrill rushes through you, anticipation crackling along your skin like a live wire. Arthur smirks, catching the way your eyes widen.

“Somethin’ catch your attention, sweetheart?”

Joel exhales sharply, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Bet she’s wonderin’ how she’s gonna take us both.”

Heat floods your cheeks, but the pulsing need between your thighs overpowers any hesitation. You reach for Arthur first, fingers wrapping around the base of his length, feeling the sheer weight of him. His head tips back slightly, but his eyes never leave you.

Not wanting to leave Joel waiting, your other hand wraps around him, fingers curling, testing. He sucks in a sharp breath, muscles tensing beneath your touch.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters, voice strained.

Arthur chuckles, breathless. “She’s got a good grip, huh?”

You lick your lips, heart hammering as you stroke them both, hands moving in slow, deliberate motions. The power of knowing you’re the cause of their unraveling sends a rush of arousal straight through you.

You lean in, taking Arthur first, tongue flicking against his heated skin. His hips jerk, a low growl slipping from his throat.

Joel’s hand slides into your hair, fingers threading through the strands—not to control, just to feel, to anchor himself as he watches you.

Arthur exhales a shaky breath, fingers flexing at his sides. “Hell, sweetheart… keep that up, and I ain’t gonna last.”

Joel chuckles, rough and strained. “Guess I gotta see what all the fuss is about.”

You glance up, meeting their hooded gazes before switching—lips leaving Arthur to wrap around Joel, your hand still working him as you take him deeper.

The sounds they make—needy, desperate, barely held together—send heat pooling between your thighs.

Arthur strokes a hand down your back. “You look so damn good like this, sweetheart.”

Joel exhales sharply, grip in your hair tightening just slightly. “Yeah, she does,” he agrees, voice ragged. “Come on, darlin’. Need you on the bed. Now.”

You barely hit the mattress before Arthur is on you. His mouth is hot, insatiable, kissing you like he’s got something to prove. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, messy and frantic, like he’s trying to erase every other man you’ve ever kissed. His hands grip your skin with urgency, mapping out every inch of you for himself.

Joel isn’t far behind. He crawls onto the bed, big hands sliding up your body. “Goddamn, baby,” he rasps, “you feel so damn good.”

Arthur drags his mouth down your throat, biting at your collarbone, fingers flexing against your hips as he grinds against you, shameless and eager. “Can’t stop touchin’ you,” he mutters, breath coming in heavy, hungry bursts.

Joel watches Arthur roll against you, sees the way your body arches for him, and lets out a low, frustrated sound. His cock twitches. His fingers dig into your thighs, possessive, patience unraveling.

“Goddamn,” he grits out. “I need you.”

Arthur’s head snaps up, eyes dark and burning. His chest heaves. “We need you,” he corrects, voice rough, daring Joel to challenge him.

You whimper, heat pooling low as Joel meets Arthur’s stare, something dangerous passing between them. Then Joel moves, fast, gripping your chin, tilting your head back into a deep kiss. His tongue sweeps against yours, stealing your breath, swallowing your sounds like he owns them.

Arthur watches with an intense gaze, his chest rising sharply. “Shit,” he mutters, voice strained.

Joel chuckles darkly. “Ain’t no stoppin’ now, Morgan.” He smirks, taunting, then glances down at you, his touch slow but deliberate. “She needs us.”

Arthur swallows hard, gaze flickering over you, taking in your wrecked state. His cock is flushed, leaking, aching. The sight of you between them, desperate and wanting, nearly drives him insane. “Then let’s give her what she needs.”

Joel’s fingers trail over your breast, rolling a nipple between them. You arch, whining, and his voice drops to a rasp. “Look at you. So goddamn beautiful.”

Arthur groans in agreement but refuses to let Joel take the lead. He moves lower, mouth dragging down your stomach, hands gripping your thighs, pushing them apart. He inhales sharply at the sight of your slick heat. “Christ, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking through your wetness. “All this for us?”

You nod, breathless, fingers tangling in his hair. “Please,” you whisper, wrecked with need.

Arthur doesn’t hesitate. His tongue flattens against you, moving with slow, devastating precision, determined to ruin you for anyone else.

Joel shifts beside you, watching, stroking himself. “Fuck,” he mutters, his free hand tracing over your trembling thighs. “You like that, darlin’? Like him eatin’ you out while I watch?”

Your answer is a broken moan. Your fingers tighten in Arthur’s hair as he sucks your clit, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through you. He pulls back just enough to rasp, “Wanna feel you come on my tongue, sweetheart. Be a good girl for me.” Then he’s back on you, relentless, holding you down as you writhe.

Joel grits his teeth, watching you fall apart, his strokes turning rougher, breath ragged. “Goddamn it.” His gaze burns at the way your body shakes, how your moans break into gasps.

It doesn’t take long. Pleasure coils tighter, spiraling until it snaps. You cry out, thighs trembling as you come. Arthur groans against you, licking you through every wave, refusing to stop until you’re shaking.

When you finally sag against the mattress, panting and wrecked, Arthur pulls away, wiping his mouth. His jaw is slick, eyes dark with satisfaction. “Think she liked that.” His fingers stroke over your inner thighs, teasing. “Sweet as honey.”

Joel clenches his jaw, his cock thick, heavy, flushed a deeper shade than normal. “Fuck,” he growls, gripping your thigh, spreading you wider. His voice is rough, raw with hunger. “Need to be inside ya, darlin’.”

Arthur chuckles, breathless. “That so?” He shifts up, hovering, smug. “Think I should get a turn first, Miller.”

Joel’s eyes flash. “Like hell you will.”

They hold each other’s gaze, both rock hard, both determined. Neither will be satisfied until they’ve both had you.

Arthur shifts back, but not in surrender. A challenge. He lets Joel take his place between your legs, then leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, fingers teasing down your stomach. “Tell him whose cock you wanna feel first.”

A needy whimper slips past your lips. Your legs spread wider in silent invitation. Desperation threads through your voice. “Joel—please.”

Joel groans, victorious, guiding himself against your entrance. “That’s a good girl.”

With one brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, knocking the breath from your lungs. You whimper, still trembling from your release, but Joel hushes you, voice softer now. “You can take it, baby. You want it bad, don’t you?”

The stretch burns, but it’s a sweet, aching pain drowned out by the desperate pulse of need. Joel presses his forehead to yours, his breath ragged, his hips already snapping into a deep, unrelenting rhythm. He’s relentless, making up for lost time, proving something with every thrust.

Arthur exhales sharply, his cock twitching at the sight of you unraveling beneath Joel.

A deep, broken moan rips from your throat, your fingers digging into Joel’s biceps.

“Hell baby feel so good,” he grits out, head dropping to your shoulder. “So goddamn tight.”

Arthur watches, smirking. “Damn, sweetheart. Feels good, don’t it?” He tilts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Bet you’re squeezin’ him so fuckin’ tight.”

Joel’s jaw tenses. “Ain’t gonna last if you keep talkin’ like that.”

Arthur chuckles darkly. “Then I better make it worse.”

His hand drifts lower, brushing featherlight over your swollen clit. The jolt of sensation sends a wrecked moan spilling from your lips.

Joel curses. “Son of a bitch—”

Arthur grins, circling slow, lazy strokes, watching you shudder. “What’s wrong, Miller? Too much for ya?”

Joel growls, slamming deeper. “I can handle my fuckin’ business.”

Arthur doesn’t stop, his murmured praises filthy and relentless as Joel fucks you harder, driving you into his hold. “That’s it, baby,” Joel rasps. “Takin’ it so fuckin’ well.”

Arthur presses a kiss to your jaw, fingers working you over. “Come again, sweetheart. Let him feel you clench up nice ‘n tight—then it’s my turn.”

Pleasure coils in your belly, overwhelming, consuming. Arthur watches, his grip tight around his cock, stroking in quick, eager pumps. His jaw flexes, frustration flickering in his dark gaze before he moves.

No hesitation. No warning. Just action.

His hands grip your hips, shoving Joel’s hold aside like he’s claiming you for himself. Joel doesn’t even glance back—but his fingers tighten, sensing exactly what Arthur’s about to do.

Arthur spreads you wider, pressing in beside Joel, the stretch sharp and immediate. Your body struggles to take them both.

Joel curses, breath wrecked. “You feel that, baby? Takin’ both of us like you were made for it.”

They move in tandem, one pulling out as the other pushes in, a brutal rhythm that has you seeing stars. The pressure, the stretch, the way they fill you—it’s too much, too good.

Joel’s head falls back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as his cock grinds against Arthur’s with every deep thrust. Skin slaps, breaths tangle, and they stretch you to your limit.

Then Arthur grips the back of Joel’s neck, crashing their mouths together. It’s rough, desperate—teeth clashing, tongues fighting for control.

Joel groans into the kiss, hips snapping harder, like he’s trying to fuck you so good Arthur can feel it too. He fists a hand in Arthur’s hair, yanking him closer, deepening it with a low, wrecked sound.

The sight makes your head spin. The way they lose themselves in each other, needy and ravenous, it’s intoxicating. You reach between them, wrapping your hand around Arthur’s cock pulling it from its warm home, slick from where he’s been inside you.

Arthur jerks, gasping, his eyes blown wide. He moves, shifting toward your head, his cock brushing your lips in silent demand.

You take him in, hollowing your cheeks, sucking him deep. Arthur curses, fingers twisting in your hair, guiding your movements.

Joel’s thrusts stutter, then recover—harder, relentless. “Jesus christ,” he grits out, watching the way you take Arthur. His cock twitches inside you, throbbing. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Arthur groans, hips jerking. “That’s it, sweetheart. Takin’ us so damn good.”

Joel’s mouth crashes back to Arthur’s, their kiss messy, desperate. They groan into each other, bodies moving in perfect rhythm—Joel stretching you open, Arthur hitting the back of your throat, pleasure spilling over in waves.

The tension builds, unbearable. Joel’s grip tightens, thrusts turning erratic before he shudders, spilling deep inside you with a wrecked moan, forehead pressed to Arthur’s.

Arthur isn’t far behind. His grip in your hair tightens as he comes, thick and hot down your throat, his moans swallowed by Joel’s mouth as they kiss through it. His free hand flexes against Joel’s neck, holding him close even as his hips still.

For a long moment, the only sound is ragged breathing, the slow cooling of sweat-slicked bodies. Joel presses his forehead to yours, fingers smoothing over your waist, grounding himself. Arthur trails lazy patterns over your skin—unexpectedly gentle after the desperation of moments ago.

Joel finally breaks the silence, voice low and hoarse. “What the hell was in those shots?”

Arthur lets out a breathless chuckle. “Just know I ain’t never felt somethin’ like that before.”

You hum, fingers threading through Joel’s damp curls as he nuzzles into your neck, his body still half-draped over yours. “Guess that makes three of us.”

Arthur’s fingers ghost along your hip, voice quieter now, but dark with something possessive. “Y’think it’s outta our system?”

Joel’s hand slides over your stomach, flexing like he’s already thinking about round two. “Hope not.” His smirk brushes against your skin before he nips at your shoulder. “Ain’t done with you yet, darlin’.”

Arthur chuckles, warm and dark against your ear. His teeth scrape your pulse, his hand gripping your thigh. “Reckon neither am I.”

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