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auteurdelabre · 7 months

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Something to Fight For (series) (PART NINE)

Word Count: 13.0k

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT

A/N:

1. OVER 13,000 words. I did that. And I did it for YOU. But you can thank Linda and her latest review because its the reason I'm uploading tonight instead of tomorrow.

2. I love Bill & Frank. That is all.

3. Joel Miller is a giver. This is my HC and I will not be dissuaded.

4. NOW: This chapter contains some imagery that non-hornies might find ... intense. What I'm saying is there is smut, and my smut tends to be on the descriptive side. I have tried to tame it down for this M rating, but I kinda don't really know what the difference between M and E is. If smut really doesn't appeal to you (that's fine darlings! I ain't offended - skip to the next chapter when I update).

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Maria brings you home later that week. She attempts to help you from the car as if you're an invalid but you wave her off with a grumble. "I'm fine."

"I guess if I was Joel you'd let me help, hmmm?" Maria says lightly.

You both move towards the house but this comment causes you to stumble before you right yourself. You dart a glance out the corner of your eye at her. She’s watching your face with a smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying that I told you I would take you to the doctor's four separate times,” Maria reasons. “Joel Miller swoops in and immediately you're in the emergency room?"

"He forced me."

"I've known you since we were teenagers," Maria says with a roll of her eyes as you enter into your suite. "No one can force you to do anything."

"He was very insistent."

"You like him."

You want to say something more but you're stopped, your eyes wide as you enter into your domain.

Twinkling Christmas lights are hanging around your bed frame, the fireplace, your window. A small artificial tree is resting in the far corner decorated with red and gold baubles. The knitted sock with your name stitched on it is hanging off the fireplace mantle.

It's all of your Christmas items decorating your place. And your entire place has been cleaned - even the windows look clearer. It looks so beautiful in here, the kind of beautiful you’ve only seen in cards and movies.

After you'd moved in here, the thought of decorating for holidays hadn't seemed too appealing. You thought the space was too small, that your ornaments and decorations would look out of place. But it makes your space seem so homey, inviting and warm.

"Did you do this, Mar’?"

Maria is grinning widely at your reaction. She looks around the space satisfied with her handiwork.

"Didn't want you coming back to a messy place after being in the hospital. I know how you feel about hospitals."

You blink back tears before you gather her into a tight hug. For the millionth time that year alone you are just so thankful that you have her in your life. If nothing else goes well for you in life, at least you can always count on Maria.

"Thank you," you say through a lump in your throat. You walk over to the electric fireplace, wanting to warm the space up. It smells delicious in here like cinnamon and fresh peppermint.

"Frank and Bill helped," Maria adds as she straightens the stocking on the mantle. "I mentioned you didn't have any Christmas lights and Frank said Bill had tons so, they came over yesterday and helped string them up."

Your heart, already softened, thumps with affection. Imagining the men from next door coming to do that just for you makes you feel overwhelmed with gratitude.

"That's so sweet," you say making a mental note to buy them a bottle of wine or something as thanks. As for Maria, you need to make sure her Christmas gift is perfect.

"Wasn't my idea about doing the Christmas stuff though," Maria adds with a glance over at you, gauging your reaction to the next sentence. "That was all Joel. Called me and said it'd probably cheer you up."

You school your features into a sweet smile and look over to her. She's standing with her hands on her hips, a brow raised and her full lips curled.

"Bless him," you say with a tone of 'aw shucks' and go back to the fireplace.

Before you can say anything more there's a rap at the door. Frank and Bill are whispering loudly to one another as you both draw over to it. Bill is muttering about Frank's cholesterol and Frank is telling Bill to hush up. You and Maria exchange amused looks and giggles before you open the door.

Frank is holding a plate of some divine smelling baked good while Bill just stands looking awkwardly around, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Just the sight of them makes tears prickle your eyes.

"You two!" you say before throwing your arms around both their necks. Frank laughs, holding you with one arm while Bill just stand there and tolerates the embrace.

"We heard you two coming in and wanted to make sure you're feeling better," Frank says after you pull back.

"Much."

"Thanks to Joel forcing her to go to the hospital," Maria says flashing a meaningful look to Frank that you don't see. You also don't see when he returns it with a subtle smile. Frank can see the way you’re avoiding both their eyes and decides to change the subject.

“We also wanted to tell you both that we’re throwing a Christmas party.”

“Holiday Party,” Bill corrects. “Christmas is nothing but a-“

“Whatever we’re calling it, it’s happening in two weeks so make sure you’re free,” Frank interrupts with a wide grin. "We want it to be a real good one so invite your friends. Maria, invite your man Tommy of course. Oh and invite that brother we've been hearing so much about, and his little girl."

Your stomach flips. Joel and Frank are actually going to meet one another? Frank is the only one who knows about that night. And you know he’s got his suspicions about the two of you.

“Of course!” Maria nods enthusiastically.

“It’ll be a nice one too,” Frank tells you both seriously. “Classy. No jeans and sweaters.”

His look at you lingers, knowing you’re not the best when it comes to dressing up for events. You give a lighthearted push to his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah.”

They leave a short while later after giving you the dessert (homemade pecan pie!). You and Maria decide there’s no better time than the present to dig in and do so right there, standing in the kitchen with forks in hand.

“Hope Joel can make it to the party,” Maria says casually. So casually you don’t even know you’re being watched and led right back into a discussion you thought you’d avoided previously. You nod, your eyes on the dessert she’s holding between you.

“Mhmm.”

"You know if you did like him it would be okay, right?" Maria hedges, watching you take a bite of the dessert. "That me and Tommy would support it?"

This gives you a momentary pause before you remember exactly why you can't be with Joel. And while some if it is has to do with your best friend standing across from you, the large majority of it is Sarah. You can't do that to her. You can't come into her life just to leave when things don't work out with her dad.

"I really don't, Maria," you insist, internally congratulating yourself with how confident you sound. "He's really nice and I really like being his friend. I adore Sarah. It's just not like that with us."

Maria looks around your suite, taking in the glowing lights that hang all around, the small tree with its colorful baubles. She takes stock of all of this before replying to you.

"Does Joel know that?"

///

Joel and Tommy are on one of the job sites and Joel is in a terrible fucking mood. Sarah is in the corner of the room, sniffling and reading one of her picture books.

“You okay babygirl?” Joel calls over to her. She responds with a big smile and nod before going back to her book. His little girl never complains, even when she’s green around the gills like she is today. According to Tess, Daniel’s also really sick, something going around at the daycare they both attend.

Sarah’s had the cold the last few days and that means Joel has gotten no sleep since then. Because you’re not around he also doesn’t have any reliable child care, so poor Sarah has been carted from site to site all day today because he and Tommy are under a strict deadline from Kathleen.

Despite Tommy living with Joel in his basement, he rarely sees his brother anymore. The younger Miller is constantly off with Maria or he’s talking about Maria or he’s thinking about her (Joel can tell by the far-off look he gets). And most of the time this doesn’t bother Joel.

Lately however? It fucking infuriates him.

Tommy has always gotten what he wants. Joel started this company from the ground up and Tommy had joined when it was already becoming successful. Tommy had spent most of his twenties fucking around while Joel bailed him out time and time again. Tommy got to find the perfect woman and fall in love. Tommy never truly works for anything.

This is in his mind when Tommy’s phone goes off in his pocket and Joel has no patience reserved for his brother.

“Leave it,” Joel growls, intent on finishing up quickly.

“It’s Maria, hey baby,” Tommy greets with a smile. He goes to light a cigarette which Joel promptly scowls at. Tommy frowns at his brother, pocketing the cigarette before going back to the conversation. “Uh huh, yeah. Just finishing up here.”

Joel can hear the chatter of Maria on the other end of the phone but he can’t decipher what she’s saying. He doesn’t care, he has to make sure that this-

“She’s home now? Good, I know you said she hated the hospital,” Tommy says, his hands going to measure the drywall even as he talks. Joel’s own hands still on the wood he’s been cutting, pausing as he realizes what Tommy’s saying.

You’re home.

Joel pretends not to listen as he prepares the drywall, but his head is tilted so he can catch what his younger brother is saying.

“Yeah, pneumonia’s brutal. Uh huh. Yeah, ‘course.”

When did you get home? Today? Should he go over?

Joel cannot think of anything else. He has not been able to get you out of his head and if he's honest with himself he's not trying. He likes you living in his thoughts.

No. Stupid. He shouldn’t want you in his thoughts. You don’t want him.

Why would he go over to see you? He’s got a sick Sarah to think about. Plus what would be his excuse? No, he needs to give you space. You ran from him when he tried to touch you, and that was the clear indication that you two are meant to be friends.

Just friends.

There are worse things to be; Joel decides as he nails the drywall to the plank he and Tommy have raised, he just can’t think of any now. In fact, thoughts of just being your friend are putting him in a decidedly shitty mood.

He needs to stay away from you. He needs to ignore this flame that starts up when he’s near you. He needs to stop pursuing something that isn’t going to happen. He needs to stop thinking about you in the way you will never think of him.

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy says, lowering the phone to his shoulder. “Enough nails!”

In a daze Joel looks to the drywall he’s hammered, frowning to see it dented in areas from over pounding. Tommy goes back to his phone, shaking his head at his suddenly distracted brother.

“Yeah he’s here, why?” Tommy glances over to Joel, listening before speaking over to him. “Joel, you wanna go to a Christmas party? You and Sarah? Maria’s neighbors invited all of us. Next Saturday.”

Joel frowns and shakes his head. He doesn’t feel like a party right now. He feels like going to sleep. Between the additional jobs Miller Construction has taken on and his sick daughter he can’t imagine doing anything other than sleeping for the next month.

And he knows that if it’s Maria’s neighbors throwing the party then you’ll be there. You’ll be there and he can’t see you right now. He needs a break. He needs a few weeks to just get his head on straight so he can stop thinking about you in a way that makes his pants grow tight.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Tommy says into the phone, his voice dropping. “But yeah ‘course I’ll come.”

“I wanna go to a party!” Sarah shouts from her corner of the room, her little voice raspy. “Daddy, please!”

Joel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine.”

///

You keep replaying Maria’s words in your head.

“Does Joel know?”

No. He doesn’t because it’s all a fucking lie.

You want Joel Miller more than you want most things in this world which includes than the ability to eat heaps of chocolate without gaining weight, and that’s saying something.

But what you want doesn’t matter. It’s not about you.

You need to keep your distance from him. He’s not for you. He’s a lovely man with a lovely daughter. Their connection to you is strong precisely because you are not dating Joel. You can’t risk losing him. Losing him means losing Sarah.

You can’t lose them.

But still, that selfish desperate feeling of connection with him is what you crave. It pulses in your mind, your heart and you can’t stop yourself from calling him later that night. The phone buzzes and you wait, almost chickening out before he answers.

“’Lo?”

His voice is rough and sleepy sounding. You dart a look to your watch to see that it’s almost ten at night. Phone manners dictate that you’re impossibly rude calling him this late and you hold in a frustrated sound.

“Fuck. Were you asleep?”

You hear Joel clear his throat and you can imagine him sitting up on his sofa, his eyes sleepy. “Just napping.”

You don’t believe him, but you’re not going to say it. You’re standing in your kitchen but you walk over to the sofa in front of the fireplace, feeling antsy.

“Hey, so,” you repeat, feeling your cheeks flush. “I just wanted. . . Thank you for taking me to the doctors.”

“Of course,” Joel says as if there was never a choice in the matter. “Next time maybe you’ll listen to me before the emergency room is needed.”

You roll your eyes at his subtle dig but then you remember the initial purpose of your call.

“Also, the place looks great and uh, Maria said it was your idea? The lights and everything?”

“You seem like the type that likes to celebrate things,” Joel replies and you’re convinced you can hear the smile in his voice. “Thought it’d make you smile.”

Jesus, Joel. Stop making it impossible for me not to want you.

“Yeah well… I loved it.”

“I’m glad.”

He sounds glad. He really does and that makes your stomach flip.

“How’ve you been?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to punch a pillow. You sound so stilted, so awkward. You can hear the smile slide from his voice.

“Not great. Sarah caught a cold-“

From you.

You made Sarah sick.

You’ve given that sweet, tiny child pneumonia. Immediately your stomach drops.

“No! Please, tell me not from-“

“No, not from you,” Joel reassures you. “She’s in daycare and about six other kids have the same bug. Getting sick is just part of the deal there. Gonna keep her home the next little bit though. After seeing you in the hospital I’m a little paranoid ‘bout what’s going around.”

“Of course.” You think about her sweet little face. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Stay outta hospitals?”

You both laugh lightly at that and you feel your pulse slow. Hearing Joel laugh has a strange, soothing affect on you. It makes you close your eyes as you lean against the shelf on your wall, feeling warm all over.

“She wants to make sure she’s better for the party,” Joel adds almost shyly after a beat. “The one your neighbors are throwin’?”

“I’m glad you're coming,” you answer honestly.

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” you say quickly. “It’s gonna be fun. Frank and Bill make the best food…”

You continue on like this, enthusing about the party. Joel interjects with his own ideas on what makes for a perfect party and before long an hour and a half has passed and you’ve talked about everything around the topic of parties and Christmas. You hear Joel try to stifle a yawn on the other end of the phone as he tells you about what he’s planning to get Sarah for Christmas and you smile.

“I better let you go. G’night Miller.”

“’Night. See ya at the party.”

///

You knock hurriedly on Frank’s door as you smooth down your hair. Maria and Tommy have already arrived at the party because they are the kind of beautiful, shiny people that are on time for things while you are the kind of woman who stumbles into a party late but waving.

You’re weighted down with bags full of gifts for everyone.

You wait for Frank to open the door, pull you into a tight hug and welcome you in. You're surprised when instead it's Sarah pulling open the door. One hand is on the doorknob, the other in her father's hand.

Universe, please give me a break.

You haven’t seen Joel since the hospital and right now he looks so good it should be illegal. Dark slacks and a deep green button up. He’s forgone the tie, leaving the first two buttons at his throat undone. His hair is brushed, and he's half crouched so he can hold Sarah's hand. He looks up as you enter, his eyes strangely guarded.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you say softly before remembering yourself and looking down at Sarah. "Hey bug, you look gorgeous as always. I must get the name of your stylist."

Sarah is dressed in a bright red velvet dress. Her hair is in its natural loose coils with tiny red bows at the temples. She looks like an absolute doll come to life.

She smiles shyly; her dimpled cheek a mirror of her father's, before looking over your dress as you shrug off your coat. Frank had made it clear that this party was a fancy one. None of your jeans and sweaters.

So you'd bought an off the shoulder dark green dress that made you feel sophisticated and holiday theme appropriate.

"You look like a princess," Sarah informs you with eyes that are filled with stars.

You smile and murmur your thanks, flushing when you feel Joel's eyes on you. You can’t let your eyes to settle on him so you look past him to the sea of old and new faces gathered around the piano. Some old lady is playing something festive while a group of exuberant party-goers sing off-key.

You reach into one of the bags you’ve brought before producing a parcel with shiny purple wrapping. You hold it out to Sarah who takes it with an excited squeak.

"No opening until Christmas," you insist. When you see her start to pout you hold back a grin, reaching into your bag again and producing a small wrapped item. “But you can open this one now.”

Joel watches as Sarah tears open the paper to reveal a chocolate reindeer in a foil package. She smiles giddily at the treat before holding it to her father and asking him to open it. He does so with a soft smile. Sarah takes a bite as you consider your next moves, wincing and then you reach into your bag and with a deep inhale shove a small parcel at Joel.

"Same goes for you," you laugh breathily. "No opening until Christmas."

It’s nothing that great. Just a pick and a new strap for his guitars. Neither of which he has asked for. Neither of which he needs or probably even wants. He doesn’t even play them anymore.

It’s just that when you were shopping for Sarah earlier that week you’d passed a music shop. Something had given you pause and you walked in, listening to the gentle lull of the shop’s holiday music, letting your fingers trace the pearlescent picks until you’d found one the perfect shade of ochre that just felt like Joel when you saw it.

The strap had been a last minute addition because giving Joel a single guitar pick seemed really stupid the more you thought about it. You’d picked a buttery feeling leather one the same color as his eyes.

“Thanks,” Joel says looking surprised and a little bit uncomfortable. “I didn’t expect a gift.”

You hadn’t expected him to get you anything so it’s not that which makes you uneasy. It’s that the sweet Joel you’ve gotten to know the last few weeks has been replaced by his quiet, withdrawn doppelganger.

You don’t know what else to say so you attempt to move past the two of them into the roar of the party when Sarah stops you with one tiny hand on yours.

"Mistletoe!" Sarah says through a mouthful of chocolate, pointing to the plant above your heads in the door frame. Joel looks stricken and you try to hold in your shock at the sight of it.

"Jesus," Joel mutters. "Where did that come from?"

"Frank," Sarah cries enthusiastically.

You stare at Sarah in confusion at this. "Why-"

"You have to kiss her, daddy," Sarah says clapping her tiny hands in delight and looking from Joel's face to yours expectantly. “You kiss people under mistletoe. Frank told me.”

No fucking way.

You don’t want to kiss Joel.

Scratch that, you desperately want to kiss Joel.

You desperately want to kiss him because his mouth looks so soft and you just know deep in your bones that he’d kiss so perfectly. You want to kiss him because just being in Joel's eye-line makes your body tingle. You want to kiss Joel because you really, really like him.

But Joel looks really, really uncomfortable at the thought of kissing you right now. More uncomfortable that you at this point and for some reason this makes you feel awful, even though you feel the same.

He’s also staring at you with this look you haven’t seen in so long from him. This dark pile of bricked up wall that insists you stay on your side. It makes you physically take a step back, suddenly unsure of whom it is you’re looking at.

"C'mere babygirl," Joel says bringing a squealing Sarah into his arms and pressing a peck to her cheek.

You feel immense relief at this diversion, smiling over at Sarah and backing away from the offensive plant. Sarah is complaining to her dad that he was supposed to kiss you, but you sidle past them and go towards the party.

The music is gliding over the crowd of festive attendees. Everyone is dressed beautifully and not surprisingly Tommy and Maria are stunning. Tommy has left off the baseball cap and he’s clean shaven. He dresses similarly to his brother, but his shirt is a deep burgundy that matches Maria’s slinky dress perfectly.

It occurs to you belatedly that you and Joel have picked similar shades to wear this evening. You will yourself not to cringe over that fact.

“You look stunning,” you tell them both, holding Maria’s hands in yours. The three of you chat for a bit, amazed at the decorations and the food spread of this party. You idly wonder how Bill is handling all this attention and frivolity in his home.

“I don’t know how Bill is surviving all of this,” Maria giggles as if reading your mind.

Frank and Bill’s place is by no means small, but with the group of people it’s packed with and the decorations it feels cramped. You note that the tasteful decorations right out of a magazine.

A few kids a bit older than Sarah are at the gingerbread cookie decorating station (of course Frank thought of that), some are gathered around the piano, and some are watching a holiday movie in the other room.

Frank swoops in wearing the gaudiest green suit covered in candy canes that you’ve ever seen. Strangely enough he pulls it off. He presses a kiss to your cheek and says he’s so glad you came and dressed in something not covered in animal hair. He tells you to mingle before moving onto the couple who has entered after you.

Your eyes fall onto your other host and you hold back a laugh. Bill has been forced into slacks and a black sweater with a snowflake design. His hair has been brushed back and Frank forced him to trim his beard.

When you approach him you realize now how Bill is surviving all this chaos. He's absolutely tanked. His cheeks are red and he's smirking intermittently behind his wineglass.

“Enjoying the party?”

“Yes,” Bill says with a crisp tinge to the ‘s’. “I love strangers in my home eating my food and touching my shit.”

There’s no malice there, only amusement. You watch as the party swells with more people of all ages, the music loud and the night beautiful. Seeing all these happy faces dressed so beautifully in the soft glow of winter decorations makes you feel cozy.

When Sarah enters into the room you take her by the hand and insist the two of you decorate a gingerbread cookie together. She is only too happy to do so, squealing in excitement and tugging you towards the messy table.

Joel watches the two of you and feels a pang in his chest.

Coming to this party was a terrible idea. How could spending more time with you make him want you less? Especially when you’re dressed like that? You’re kneeling beside the child’s table, squeezing icing onto Sarah’s cookie. Joel holds in a moan when you lean forward to place the sprinkles and his eyes are drawn to the swell of your breasts.

He needs to stop wanting you.

He needs to do something drastic.

You and Maria are nibbling on the cheese spread later that night when Joel approaches you, tapping you on the shoulder. You turn, surprised to see him looking at you agitated. He shifts from foot to foot slowly, his shoulders tensed.

Something’s wrong.

Maria seems to sense this too because she tells you both she needs to find Tommy even though you both know he’s over with Sarah and the other kids playing some reindeer ring toss game. You swallow your cracker, wincing as it scratches your throat going down.

“What’s up?”

"I can't accept this," Joel says shoving your gift back into your hand. You stare down at it, the small rectangular gift; a present you had wrapped twice because the first time you had decided it wasn’t good enough.

"Why not?"

"I just - I can't," Joel grumbles.

You feel everything in your body go cold. What happened? What did you do wrong? You take the gift back, holding it in your palm and feeling humiliated.

“I don’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t be right to take it. I didn’t get you anything.”

"I didn’t expect a gift from you,” you insist, trying to hold in the tremor starting in your voice. “You're not gonna make Sarah give hers back too are you?"

"No. Course not."

"Then why-"

A loud cheer sounds from the other side of the room, drawing your attention over Joel’s shoulder because someone has convinced Bill to play the piano.

Deciding that you don’t want to talk about this topic anymore with Joel, you move past him to stand near the crowd gathering at the piano. You watch fascinated as your usually reclusive neighbor taps a few of the ivory notes, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Everyone shut up. I’m going to play,” Bill announces his face pink and his hair going wild at the temples. Frank is coming to stand near you, his face open in wonder at the sight of his normally quiet husband commanding the room. Several voices pop up suggesting songs for Bill.

“Play Jingle Bells!”

“Away in a Manger!”

“The twelve days of Christmas!”

“None of that shit!” Bill insists with a scowl as he places his fingers on the keys. “I’m gonna play you all the song that made Frank fall in love with me.”

You hear Frank take a sharp intake of breath, his hand going to rest at his sternum as he watches Bill. You feel your mouth hitching into a smile as you watch your dear neighbor’s eyes fill with tears at the first notes played.

“Love will abide Take things in stride Sounds like good advice But there's no one at my side And time washes clean love's wounds unseen That's what someone told me But I don't know what it means”

Bill is by no means a professional singer but you can’t explain the spell cast when he sings. His voice normally harsh is more muted when he sings, soft and unsure of itself. It makes the song feel intimate, like it was made for them to sing and hear alone.

“Caught in my fears Blinking back the tears I can't say you hurt me When you never let me near And I never drew one response from you All the while you fell all over girls you never knew”

You’ve heard this song before you think. One that your Mom used to play when you were little. But you’ve never really listened to the lyrics and they’re heartbreaking. This is the song Frank fell for Bill over?

Maria is a few steps away from you, shooting you a surprised look. She was obviously not prepared for this side of her neighbor either. Bill continues, his fingers moving deftly over the piano keys in a way that is so graceful and at odds with how you view him.

“Wait for the day you'll go away Knowing that you warned me Of the price I'd have to pay And life's full of flaws Who knows the cause? Living in the memory of a love that never was”

You sneak a glance at Frank to see his eyes are wet with tears, some of which have slipped down his cheek. Yet he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the burly man who sings with abandon, his blue eyes shut lightly.

“'Cause I've done everything I know To try and make you mine And I think I'm gonna love you For a long long time”.

Bill’s eyes open to land on Frank as the song concludes and it’s like the room collectively sighs in adoration.

The applause is gentle but warm. You glance around to see a lot of misty eyes, Maria is dabbing the corner of her eyes with a napkin and Tommy is biting the inside of his lower lip so hard you think he might be drawing blood.

Joel is nowhere to be seen.

"Okay, you can all leave," Frank jokes to the room before making his way to Bill.

The crowd laughs and you watch as Frank leans over the piano to press his lips to his husband's waiting ones. Bills eyes flutter shut as he returns the kiss, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile under his beard.

They pull back and the open adoration in both their gazes takes your breath away.

That’s love.

You're surprised to feel your own eyes burning at the sweet sight accompanied by a wave of melancholy that washes over you. It morphs into a selfish, clawing ugliness that makes you back away from the crowd and leave the room, needing to go somewhere quiet.

You need to be away from everyone.

You move into one of the rooms off the hall, quiet and dark and realize instantly that its Frank’s paining studio, a place you rarely venture into. Like Bill, Frank is a bit protective over his things, though he’d never admit it.

An easel with a half-painted portrait of Bill sits in the corner. A wall of well organized oil paint implements greets you as you enter into the space. The floor is wood and your heels click over it as you move to observe the large windows leading out into the dark of the night.

A plain grey sofa sits at the far wall and you collapse into it, letting your head hang. It’s not long before you’re cupping your face in your hands and crying softly.

This is the first Christmas without Paul. Your first Christmas not going home. And while you don't regret either of the decisions that lead you to these ends, you can't help but feel a little sad for yourself.

Poorly paying job, no car, no real apartment to speak of. Single. Last guy you dated was a coke head. Obsessed with a guy you’re pretty sure currently hates you for reasons you aren’t even privy to. The list is looking pretty grim.

Your gift for Joel is placed beside you, only adding to your misery. You don’t hear the half-opened door being pushed completely. You only hear the rough timbre of the last person you want to see right now.

“Are you okay’?”

You immediately stiffen, wiping at your face with your hands when Joel enters the room, closing the door behind him. You don’t bother answering him, hoping that if you twist away from him he’ll get the message to leave.

The room is cloaked in semi-darkness, the only light coming from the glowing lights along the outside of the house. It bathes you and Joel in a softness that belies how prickly you’re currently feeling.

“Is this because of the gift thing?” Joel asks, looking guiltily between you and the present sitting next to you on the sofa.

“No,” you snap, embarrassed at being caught in such a state. “Not everything is about you, Joel.”

He turns to leave, realizing that coming in here was a terrible idea. For some reason something is bubbling within you, an overarching anger that makes you stumble up from the sofa and over to the door that Joel is attempting to open.

You push it closed, squeezing between he and it.

“What is your problem with me all of a sudden?” you demand, your eyes blazing as you look up at him.

“N-nothin’” Joel stammers, looking strangely wild-eyed.

“Then why are you acting so weird tonight?” you insist, not even realizing that you’re moving forward as Joel steps back to get away from you.

“I’m not-“

“You are so! Why won’t you accept my gift?” you snarl. “I’ve always accepted everything you’ve given me with thanks.”

“Not everything.” It jumps out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Your hands are at your sides in angry fists that loosen when he says this.

“What?”

“Gimme space,” Joel rasps out at you, his eyes travelling the entire circumference of your face as you stare up at him in confusion.

You don’t realize when you crowded Joel against the wall, but you have. You step back immediately before you shake your head in disgust, throwing yourself back onto the sofa. His present is there and just the sight of it makes your anger rise again.

“Just keep the fucking gift Joel,” you snap, throwing the parcel at his feet. “Stop acting childish.”

Joel had been about to duck out of the room, his large hand on the doorknob once more. But at the sound of the gift hitting the floor beside his feet and your guttural insult he stops abruptly.

You can almost hear the moment that he goes from concerned to furious.

“I’m acting childish?” Joel counters, throwing himself into a kneeling position on the sofa next to you. One of his wide hands is on the back of it, the other palm on the arm of the sofa that you’re now pressed back against. He’s caged you in and up this close you can see the vein at the side of his throat ticking angrily.

“You’re the one who ran away from me and then never returned my phone calls.”

The shame you feel is immediate. There it is, the truth laid bare. It makes you feel panicked and you realize that you and Joel have swapped emotions seamlessly. Because now you feel cornered and terrified and Joel looks absolutely incensed.

His dark eyes are boring into yours, his mouth inches from your face as he breathes, his warm breath buffeting your cheeks. You can see his teeth are clenched angrily.

“We already talked about this, Joel.”

“No.” Joel shakes his head sharply. “No, we didn’t. I tried to make it easy on us by not pushing it. But I’m done pretending that I don’t want you.”

Your eyes blow wide. Did you hear him right?

“Not as a friend, not as a babysitter,” Joel continues his tone harsh despite the sweetness of his words. “I want you for my own.”

“Joel,” you plead in a whisper.

Fuck. You want him so badly.

“I wanna take care of you,” Joel insists, his eyes morphing from furious to completely undone. “But I can’t do that if you won’t be honest with me. You ran from me that night and I wanna know why.”

You can’t keep looking at his face or into his eyes. It’s too intense. You close your eyes, wincing as you say the words you tried to hide. It’s too late to tell Joel the lie that you just want to be friends. It’s too late to pretend like he doesn’t do something to your insides. It’s all too late.

You have to be honest.

“I was scared,” you admit, your cheeks blazing. Joel’s eyebrows saddle as he looks down at you.

“Of me?”

“No,” you shake your head, tsk-ing that he would ever think that. “Of what it would mean.”

Joel seems to be calming because his jaw loosens and he nods, moving back from his looming over you.

“Sarah.”

“Yeah, Sarah.”

The two of you lapse into silence, unsure of what to say next. Joel has retreated now, just sitting next to you on the sofa in the quiet and you shift to a seated position, your eyes cracking open. Your heart still races though, and you’re unable to stop looking at him. Even now, flushed and defeated he’s striking.

“There is something here isn’t there?” Joel says gently, his imploring eyes turned on to you. “Something strong… I’m not imagining it?”

Your heart literally squeezes when he says that. You have to close your eyes again and steady your breathing because right now anything you say will be a stammering mess. He’s right there is something here, something strong. And it terrifies you. Not just because of Sarah.

"Yes there is," you finally answer, feeling the flush rise through your body. “You’re not imagining it.”

Joel’s eyes read relief at this and you feel a stab of guilt knowing that he’s carried around this confusion for so long.

“But still probably not a good idea,” you finish lamely.

Joel doesn’t reply, but you can see him absorbing this information. Joel’s eyes often give him away, but in the semi darkness you’re not quite sure what he’s thinking. You can’t get a read on if he’s upset and angry or just dejected and accepting.

You can hear the sound of the party raging outside, muffled from the closed door.

“I should get back,” Joel announces quietly, making a move to shove off the sofa and stand. He pauses when your hand flies to his wrist, your fingers pressing gently there. His dark eyes dart to your face, but your eyes are on his mouth.

You don't want him to leave. You want to stay in his space. You want to breathe the same air. You want him to touch you.

I’m done pretending that I don’t want you.

You want him so badly it dwarfs the fears and anxieties you’ve carried with you. This palpable need is so intense that it makes every other emotion seem insignificant.

You can't help it. Joel Miller is just so beautiful and his words keep curling around your heart.

I want you for my own.

You don't even realize you've shifted forward and tilted against him until your palms land on his broad chest for purchase. You hear him take a shuddering inhale before your lips press firmly against his soft mouth.

Immediately his hands are wrapping around you, holding you to him tightly. One hand moves to lie gently astride your neck, thumb resting on your jaw. The other is banding around your waist to pull you closer to him.

The sensation of his lips shocks you, half because you never thought he'd return it so immediately.

The kiss is gentle and sweet and you wish he never had walked into this room because now that you know what it's like to kiss Joel Miller, nothing else will ever come close.

This is the kiss to which all others will be compared.

Then its intensity picks up, and you feel yourself being pushed back to lie on the sofa. His hands are sliding along your body and yours are carding through his curls as he groans gently. Your thighs squeeze his midsection as he moves between them, his body heavy and warm atop yours.

You crack your eyes open to see his staring down at you.

You hold in a whimper. He's just so delicious. Your mouth finds his again, your body arching against his. Your dress has ridden up and you can feel him there lengthening under his slacks, his clothed member pressing directly against your core.

Your eyes blow wide at this sensation and you pull back from his mouth,

Being here kissing him feels so impossibly right but so terrifyingly serious. Like a spotlight shone on you and all your insecurities you've ever had about the two of you together. Every concern you’ve ever had suddenly springs up, overwhelming you. It makes Joel search your face, seeing the anxiety overtaking your features. When the haze of lust is overtaken by a very unwelcome rationality, you feel your stomach hollowing in panic.

It makes you want to run.

"No," Joel insists gently, as if he can read your mind, his wide hand spanning over your sternum and holding you there. "You're not runnin’ again."

Joel wants to keep kissing you. From the feel of your full lip under his fingertip weeks ago to your mouth on his seconds ago, this is all he has thought about. Seeing you in that dress tonight, watching your face go from furious to completely lusty just now? Having you hold him between your legs? It's heaven.

You look so good right now. Your hair is dishevelled and your mouth full and reddened from his ministrations. You look like you're ready to be fucked and Joel desperately wants to oblige but he can also see the wild look expanding in your eyes, like a skittering rabbit.

He can feel your heartbeat under his fingertips and he dips his mouth to yours for what he hopes is a reassuring kiss.

"We don't have to do anything more," he murmurs as he pulls his face back. "I'll stop touching you right now if you say the word. But you're not running again. Not from me."

He's not going to move again until you do.

You didn't really want to run from Joel Miller. Not now, not ever. It's just that wild fight or flight in your brain that insists you close off yourself to the potential hurt. Was it really Sarah this whole time that was holding you back? Or that secret part of you, the one that believes you’ll be abandoned?

You don’t know anymore.

"Joel," you start to say you should stop. That you’ve already gone too far. That this entire thing is a bad idea. Your hands fly to his broad shoulders because you're going to push him off of you.

Except you don't.

Your hands keep grazing up his shoulder and moving to wrap around his neck, pulling his face back down to meet yours. And now with this silent admission of desire, Joel unravels. His voice becomes tight, grainy and he murmurs what you think is: "So fucking beautiful."

You're not sure you heard him right, and if you did you don't know what to say to that. Your eyes are fixed on his full mouth. His lower lip is so full, so inviting you want to nibble on it.

Then his mouth is on yours again and now you're clutching at him, trying to remain calm even as his tongue sweeps between the seam of your lips your thighs tremble around his midsection.

Where did he learn to kiss like this? If it was Michelle I’m sending her flowers.

It's not fair, you decide as he begins licking into your mouth desperately, one hand on the architecture of your jaw, the other spread wide against your lower back. It's not fair that one person should be so handsome, so strong and so good at kissing.

"This is what I wanted to do that night," Joel rasps against your mouth. You moan as his mouth moves to your jaw because you wanted him to do more that night. He’s got you pressed so tightly into the sofa you’re concerned you’re going become one with the cushions.

"Want you so fucking much," he murmurs. His mouth moves to skim along your jaw and you shiver as his wide palms travel along your body, brushing your tits through your dress. You arch as his thumbs brush over the peaks of your nipples through the dress.

Your arms are around his neck and you're clinging to him because you don’t want to let Joel go. Not now. Not ever. He's hovering over you, one forearm holding him up while his free hand goes to cup you through the fabric.

"Christ," Joel moans, his head dropping to kiss along your bared clavicle. His hands are kneading your breasts through the flimsy fabric. A distant part of you is realizing what's going to happen if he keeps going. You’re going to let him fuck you right here on this sofa in the middle of a bustling party.

“Joel, I . . . “ you trail off because you don’t know exactly what you need, you just know it involves Joel and his touch.

"Need to -" Joel's murmur trails off. He makes a grunting noise low in his throat, pulling down the neckline of your dress with ease to expose your bra.

You don't even care if he rips the dress, you'll buy a new one. But then you realize with a wince that he’s now revealed the cheap bra you always wear. A part of you internally screams at your poor choice of underclothes because in them you don't feel particularly alluring but Joel's eyes are almost black with desire.

He tugs down the dress and pushes you up and out of the cups of your bra, his eyes fixed on your bared chest in the near darkness. It causes your arms to go to your side, fixed there by the tight fabric. Joel takes his time, blowing gently on your nipple and sighing when it puckers further under the sensation.

"Fucking perfect," he murmurs before lowering his mouth to begin sucking on one hardened nipple as his fingers pluck and graze the other. The result is electric, like shots of fire going through your body, starting at your breasts. You grip the back of his neck for purchase the best you can, holding back the moan that threatens to escape you.

You arch along the arm of the sofa as Joel's hips hold yours in place. He's grinding against you, the feel of his thick, warm member very apparent even through his slacks.

"Joel," you sigh because that's all you can formulate in the moment. He makes a deep groaning noise before pulling off your nipple with a pop and moving his mouth back to yours. Your hands tangle in his tousled hair as you kiss him back fervently. Your bared chest rasps against the buttons on his shirt.

You love kissing Joel.

God, his mouth, his tongue. His hand is sliding to your throat while your hands are skimming the front of his shirt, your fingers itching to undo his buttons. You want to feel the warm skin of his torso. You want him in your mouth. His hands are going to curl around the waistband of your panties, his breathing erratic.

“Need it,” he moans softly in your ear. “Please let me taste you.”

You are boneless when he says those words. His voice is so low and velvety and despite the fact that he posed the question, it’s you who feels uncertain. His mouth is on yours again and he’s tugging at your panties.

He’s going to fuck you right here on this sofa in the middle of a party. With everything in your power you pull back from his seeking lips.

"W-we should stop. Anyone could walk in."

He pulls back, his body aching against yours. You try to focus on his face but you feel like you're head is swimming. Joel glances at your mouth as if considering kissing you again. But instead he nods and brushes a hand against your cheek before pushing himself up and out from between your legs.

He leans back up and you follow suit, dragging your dress back up over your chest. Joel seems deflated at that. You can’t seem to make your brain work because Joel sitting there with his hair tousled from your hands and his mouth all swollen. You know you wanted to stop but right now you’re forgetting why. It seems like Joel’s handsome face is too impossible not to focus on.

"We need to talk," Joel murmurs. And you know what he means. If this is going to work you need to talk about this. This is a huge step for both of you. It shakes you from your lusty focus and you nod.

"Yeah," you agree.

“Your place?”

“Sure.”

"I'm gonna tell Tommy to take Sarah home."

"Okay."

“And you’re not gonna run?”

You glance up at Joel’s face when he says that, his voice tight and his eyes impossibly vulnerable. There is so much reflected in Joel Miller’s dark eyes, these wide open galaxies that pull you in. Right now they show hurt and concern and this deep, deep need.

Your hand comes to cup his bristled cheek and you hold in a sigh when he leans into your palm, his eyes falling shut. A look of peace has overtaken his usually stern features, smoothing them into the face of a man surrendered.

It makes it imperative to cup his other cheek and move your mouth over his, kissing him gently and reverently, as if you can transfer all your affection and care for him through the action before pulling back.

“I’m not gonna run.”

He smiles at you in a crooked way that makes your heart skip before he quickly stands and moves out the door of the studio, closing it softly behind him.

What just fucking happened?

You sit there catching your breath for a moment before forcing yourself to a stand. Your entire body is shuddering, like you're getting over a fever. You make your way out of the room because you need more of Joel. You need his hands on your body and you need his tongue in your mouth and-

"Not your type, huh?"

You’re immediately startled when a voice reaches out to you. You glance over to see a very amused Frank looking at you from the top stairs of the basement. He's holding a new bottle of wine and looking decidedly too smug.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

You scowl at him harshly, about to say something when Joel reappears wearing his jacket and holding yours. Your face immediately morphs into a stupid, dazed sort of smile when he grins at you.

“Ready?”

You nod, pulling on your jacket and feeling your heart kick as he takes your hand in his, leading you to the front door.

You don’t even notice Frank holding in laughter before going to rejoin the party.

You’re thankful that the rest of the party is in the main room, leaving you both to escape undetected.

As you walk the short distance to your place the ache between your legs is staggering. You feel giddy and anticipatory as he scissors his long legs across the grass, his eyes fixed on the darkness in front of you, navigating you both safely to your door.

He drops your hand only so you can pull out your keys to unlock your door. Why did you fucking lock it tonight of all nights?

Joel’s arms are crossed loosely as he leans against the door watching you fumble with your keys. For some reason you’re having trouble making your hand and brain move. Those soulful eyes of his dart from the lock to your face.

Cupid's bow couldn't have struck harder than Joel Miller's eyes in that moment. They're glazed with fear and guilt mixed desperately together and you see it mixed up with open lust when he speaks softly.

"Do you still want-"

He doesn't even get the sentence out because you've launched yourself at him, your arms instinctively going to wrap around his neck. His mouth comes crashing into yours, the deep relief of your reciprocation clear in the way he holds you to him.

He's got you pressed against your front door with his pelvis, his broad frame dwarfing you as you fumble with the knob at your spine. You kiss him with abandon, your hand continuing to scramble over the handle before you feel Joel pull back.

You crack your eyes open to see him smirking down at you. (How have you never noticed how impossibly sexy he is when he does that?) He moves his right hand from the side of your neck to the knob, turning and pushing the door open.

You're about to say something self deprecating about how you're normally an expert at door opening, but then Joel's hands are on either side of your jaw and his lips are on yours again and - fuck, you can't think straight, your mind is consumed with this beautiful man kissing you so well.

Joel walks you backwards to your bed, kissing you the entire way as you both discard your jackets onto the floor. When the back of your legs hit the end of your bed Joel is gripping you by the waist, licking into your mouth with such need that your back arches. Your hands are on his shoulders, gripping there to keep from falling.

"I've imagined this so many times," you sigh against his parted mouth. You don't have time to consider if you should have kept that to yourself because Joel's reaction to this confession is electric.

He hits his knees so quickly it's dizzying and before you can think or say anything, Joel is hitching up your dress to bunch at your hips before kissing you there. It's obvious what he intends to do and despite everything in you telling you to stop him, that it's all going too fast, you can't. Instead you arch back, your hips dropping towards him.

You stare down at him, your heart beating like mad as he curls his forefinger around the lace of your panties and looks up at you with a face that asks your silent permission.

You nod without hesitation, your breathing becoming staccato-ed as you watch him pull your already soaked panties down your legs. You step out of them, your hand going to brush his cheek. Seeing Joel kneeling in front of you, his hair tousled and his mouth parted in wanting causes you to shudder all over.

He gently urges the crook of your left leg over his broad shoulder, opening you to him. He's so fucking seductive kneeling there in front of you, his eyes taking in your sex with the look of a man meeting his salvation.

His hands are trailing over your thighs, the back of your knees, your calves, as if he's trying to map your body by touch alone. You can just see the curls of his hair as he leans forward, inhaling deeply and groaning again, his lips trailing over the tops of your legs languidly.

Did you ever think that you would go from yelling at Joel Miller to having his mouth between your legs?

He's murmuring against the soft skin of your hip now, something deep and low. You want to ask him what he's saying but then you whine low in your throat as he brings a hand to your leg on his shoulder, holding you in place as he presses gentle kisses to your silken inner thigh.

"Tell me to stop and I will," he says looking up at you from his place half-knelt on the floor.

Then his mouth descends.

Any reply dies in your mouth at the first swipe of Joel's tongue.

"Jesus!"

You clap a hand over your mouth, suddenly aware that Maria might hear you upstairs if she didn’t go to Tommy’s. But Joel is gripping your hands, pulling them down and making you fist them through his hair.

"Hold," he tells you plainly, urging your hands to tighten in his locks. You're powerless to deny this request as his mouth returns to your aching core. Your hands hold onto his curls for dear life as he begins to taste you.

Joel is so talented at this that you genuinely consider sending Maria a fruit basket along with the flowers. Within seconds he has you gripping his hair as you tilt back, your body trembling.

“So fucking good,” he says between licks and deep, open-mouthed kisses.

Your head tilts forward on your chest, looking down the length of your body and holding in a moan. DaVinci's ‘Mona Lisa’. Michelangelo's ‘David’. Van Gogh's ‘Starry Night’. All beautiful works of art and yet to you nothing comes close to being as exquisite as the sight of Joel Miller moving between your legs.

His eyes are shut languidly, his nose nuzzling your clit as he works his tongue between your folds. Jesus Christ he's a work of art. His tongue is teasing you, flicking lightly. With every passing moment you feel the sparks building within you and you start to feel the familiar lightheaded sensation.

"I-I need to lie down," you gasp, your knee threatening to buckle. Joel nods, coming to a stand and easing you back onto the bed. He straddles you there, his body curled over you as he kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips and this makes you groan into his mouth.

“Need to keep tastin’ you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. You whimper, nodding as he begins to push your dress up your abdomen again.

He brings his body down the length of yours and off the bed. He stands there, looking down at you with your wild hair and full mouth and you suddenly feel so exposed. The dress is resting just over your hips and you go to cover your aching pussy. Joel frowns, batting your hands away.

“Don’t hide,” he says gruffly before surging towards you. You give a small sound of surprise as Joel tugs your ankles until you’re at the edge of the bed.

There he kneels again as if in prayer, his hands coming to coil around your thighs before placing them over his shoulders. You watch this moaning softly as Joel’s dark eyes dart up the length of your body.

You expect him to look away or at least close his eyes, but instead he fixes his gaze to you before moving his mouth against your core in silent worship. You can’t keep looking at him there, your thighs parted wide on his broad shoulders, his soft mouth pressing kisses to your cunt before his eyes flutter shut.

“Joel,” you whimper, feeling impossibly selfish. He’s mapped most of your half naked body and he still has his fucking clothes on! “Let me touch you.”

Joel shakes his head slightly before his hands have found yours again, urging them to grip his hair. You acquiesce as his palms push your thighs open wider, so that his tongue can reach deeper.

“Wanna make you come first,” he grunts lazily. “Need you to come on my tongue.”

Joel Miller is a giver.

His voice is low and thick and the desire wraps itself around every syllable.

If Joel just stood there at the end of your bed saying deliciously filthy things like that, never even touching you, you are convinced you could just come from that alone.

You’re about to shakily say something when you see him palming himself through his slacks as he tastes you. His hand is wide and squeezes intermittently, his groans increasing as his mouth devours you. Is he getting off to getting you off?

That’ll do it.

"Joel!" His name tumbles from your lips as you crest, your hands tugging at his hair urging him deeper. He acquiesces readily, fucking you with his tongue and sending you into that sweet, blissful state of release watching you the entire time.

You arch off the bed, your hands going from his hair to clutch the sheets next to you as you come, your body jerking against his mouth. You expect him to stop, to join you in the bed but his eyes have fallen closed and he’s still going.

"Fuck! Joel I-" you can't finish because Joel isn't stopping.

“You can give me another,” he says flicking his tongue lightly.

He’s smiling dreamily, his eyes still closed as he continues to suck on your clit, and now his finger has come to slide into your sopping center. You’re making obscene noises, rutting against his palm as his tongue continues laving at your clit and another finger joins the first; curling in that sweet spot you can’t reach yourself.

Your hips are thrusting shallowly, and you feel yourself tumbling into another orgasm, this one sharper and more localized. You come raggedly calling his name, your thighs trembling along his shoulders.

Only after you come down from this second high does he pull back with his damp mouth curved into a self satisfied grin. You know your eyes must betray their every thought because he climbs up the bed, his mouth slanting over yours.

He kisses you sweetly, his mouth full and warm before he lays himself next to you in the bed, watching as you pull the dress back down over your hips. You roll onto your side to face him, your heads both resting on the same pillow.

He can’t stop smiling at you. It’s a subtle one, one that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle slightly. The kind that makes your heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with sex. And yet, it sends your body into an internal frenzy and your reaching a hand across the space between you to land on his hips.

“We said we were going to talk,” Joel murmurs when your hands begin to untuck his shirt from his slacks.

“Yeah, you’re right. We did.”

You want to talk like you both agreed, but being in bed with Joel is making logical thought really difficult. Your hand is sliding down his hips, down to palm his heavy cock through his pants before squeezing gently. You watch in fascination as Joel's eyes shutter and how slowly he moves against you, extending the sensation before something in him stops him, his hips pulling from you. Your palm falls to the bedsheet between you.

“So we should talk.”

You can’t help it. You want to see Joel’s face do that thing again. That little brow flick and neck bob. That unguarded way his eyebrows banded when you first squeezed. You find yourself completely taken with how Joel looks when he’s aroused. Your hands are moving back over his slacks and he’s watching it with a look of a man faced with an impossible decision.

“Maybe we can talk after?” you suggest lightly as your hand slides down his pelvis.

“A-after?” he asks in a low groan as your hand slides over the length of his cock, squeezing. You’re rewarded with another eyebrow band and deep swallow from Joel.

“Yeah,” you soothe, starting slide your palm to curve around the shaft the best you can through the fabric and rubbing gently. “After I make you come?”

Joel is fighting for his life, his eyes shut tightly. “We need-need to-“

“You could finish in my mouth if you want?”

Joel makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat before his head falls into the crook of your neck, his hips thrusting into your hand. You smile, feeling something bloom within you when you hear the ragged groans coming from Joel. This strong man who could ask you to do anything and you’d oblige readily and all he wants right now is for you to touch him through his pants.

But just as you’re really starting to enjoy yourself, just as you feel Joel’s fingers digging into your hip you feel Joel shake his head, extricating himself from you gently with a growled “No” while breathing heavily through his nose.

You lean back, a small smirk on your face that he returns.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

You laugh breathily at that, observing with delight that his eyes can’t stop going to your mouth, your breasts, your eyes. He sees your own gaze resting on the vee of his legs, his hips arched away from your still wandering hands.

"I want to," Joel promises you, his finger going to tap your chin so you’ll look at him. "You have no idea how much I want to."

"Good, I think I have a condom," you attempt to shift over and roll towards your bedside table but Joel stills you, holding you by the waist and pulling you back to face him. That strange guarded look is back in his eyes and it makes your stomach jump.

It's so surreal to be laying here beside him. He's looking at you with such a tensing of his jaw you're concerned he's going to crack a tooth. Self consciousness, that insidious beast in the back of your mind makes you curl into yourself.

Did you do something wrong? Did he regret what just happened?

"You changed your mind.”

"It's not that," Joel insists. "Never that.”

When he sees a flicker of doubt cross your features he groans and grabs you by the wrist. You say nothing as he brings your limp palm to the crotch of his slacks. There you can feel the thick warmth of his cock pulsing as your hand grazes him through the fabric.

"Hasn’t this been proof enough all night?"

“Still,” you say warily taking your hand back. “What’s wrong?”

"This'll change everything," he says in a voice halfway between hopeful and worried. You consider his words, your breathing choppy because he keeps staring at you with the kind of eyes that people write poems about, the kind that move mountains and lessen resolve. When you don’t immediately answer him, you can see the flash of indecision cross his features.

“We can stop it all right now,” Joel whispers as his eyes search your face. “We can stop and we can pretend it never happened. I can do that if that’s what you want. It’d be hard but I could.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No.”

His answer is immediate and you feel a shuddering breath of relief leave you. It’s not what you want either. Joel has told you, has shown you how he feels. You need to say something that will make him understand.

“I want it to change, Joel,” you say truthfully. “I want you. Not just in bed. Not just as a friend.”

He’s nodding now, his eyes wide and innocent looking. As if he can’t believe what you’re saying but he’s so fucking happy to be hearing it. You realize that you’ve come this far, you need to say everything that’s been dancing in your mind.

"I want you Joel," you tell him softly, your pupils blown wide. “I want you.”

His reply is whispering your name against your mouth as he kisses you. As he presses his lips against yours, pulling you tightly around him you feel yourself surrender completely. His touch make you feel something you never felt with Paul or James. Safe. He makes you feel safe.

"I think we’ve talked enough.”

The meaning is clear because your hand has come to rest on his belt buckle and your pupils now dominate your iris. You can almost hear whatever restraint was holding Joel back snap like a rubber band.

"I-- f-fuck, okay," Joel nods sharply, and while you undo his belt buckle his hands are coming to unbutton his slacks and bring down his zipper.

You're over-eager, your hand skimming under the band of his slacks and boxers to where his hardened shaft lays pulsing. When your hand wraps around it, sliding gently from base to tip his hips jump off the bed.

“Fuck!

His eyes are slammed shut as his hips thrust into your hand. His teeth are clenched so tightly the dimple in his right cheek has popped out.

“Joel look at me,” you plead, needing his eyes on you. They open a crack, glittering stones shining out at you from a pinched face.

“Just relax,” you soothe, your hand gently stroking him. “We don’t need to rush.”

This seems to get through to him because Joel nods. You watch his jaw unclench, and his fingers release the death-grip they’ve had on your bed sheets. His hand moves to twist in your hair, holding there for purchase. His eyes open fully now, limpid and staring at you while he grunts and thrusts into your hand.

You can’t help but lean forwards, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before moving your lips to his ear.

“I need you in my mouth, Joel,” you whimper against the soft skin of his earlobe, relishing the shiver that runs through him at the sound of it. Joel is shockingly responsive to your touch, as if he’s gone so long without it.

“You don’t have to-“ he starts but you ignore him because you're desperate to taste him, to just drag your tongue over the swollen head of his cock.

You’re pulling down his slacks and boxers, groaning when his erect cock is freed. It throbs there on his belly, golden and thick with a rosy head that is begging for your tongue. Joel is so fucking gorgeous laying there, his dark eyes wide as your tongue trails over your lower lip. Your hair has drifted in front of your face but Joel’s wide palm comes to brush it back.

“Thanks,” you say huskily as your mouth curves into a smile. “I want you to be able to see everything.”

His cock twitches at that and he makes a choking sound in the back of his throat.

“Jesus.”

It’s a guttural sound, like you’ve ripped it from his chest. You love it. You love that you’re the reason the normally reserved Joel is rapidly unwinding.

A sinful thought breaks into your mind: could you get Joel to whimper for you? The thought of turning a man like Joel into a needful, whimpering mess under your tongue makes you teeter on the edge of orgasm by thought alone. You see his neck bob as he swallows thickly again, his eyes fixed on your face. Your eyes drift towards his cock.

You need him in your mouth, you need to taste him.

And you would have accomplished such a feat if Joel's cell phone hadn't suddenly gone off loudly in his pocket, startling you both.

The beep is loud and sharp and it sends you almost tumbling off the bed as the red-cheeked Joel digs into his pockets looking furious. With a trembling hand he pulls out the phone, reading the message that’s come through before swearing.

“Everything okay?”

You’ve crawled back up the length of him. For some reason you can tell that your night is about to be cut short.

"It's Tommy asking where I am."

You can see the indecision in his eyes and frown at the rapid softening of his cock. You watch with disappointment as he shifts his hips, pulling his clothes back on in a hurry.

"Stay," you insist, not caring that you sound plaintive. “Please stay?”

Joel looks momentarily flustered at the sound of your voice pitched low and begging. You can see him biting back a groan as he turns his gaze on you.

“Sarah’s had a nightmare. She’s asking for me.”

Immediately you sober, knowing that there is no way you’re going to ever make Joel pick between you and his daughter. That’s a battle you were born to lose. So instead you sigh, disappointed but understanding as he pulls on his jacket. You force a smile on your face and tell him you understand.

“Tell bug I said hello,” you offer with a smile.

Despite the fact that she’s a major cockblock in this moment, you still love the kid.

Joel looks over at your form in the bed, your eyes big and sad. You may be okay with him leaving but that doesn’t mean that you’re happy about it. To be fair Joel looks so fucking disappointed, maybe even more than you.

He stands beside the bed, knowing that if he stays a second longer he physically won’t be able to leave. You watch him pull on his jacket, willing yourself not to focus on how good he looks when he’s getting ready to leave you.

"How about breakfast tomorrow?" Joel concedes out of nowhere. “Just you and me so we can talk more about this?”

“Like a date?”

Joel’s answering grin causes something in your heart to gallop. He leans over, his palms pressing onto the bed so he can reach you to plant a full-mouthed kiss to your lips before pulling back.

“Exactly like a date.”

Delight blooms in you and you nod with a grin.

"Yeah, I’d love to.”

Joel stays leaning on the bed for several seconds, his eyes scanning your face. You would ask him what he’s doing but you’re doing exactly the same. You’re memorizing every line, every eyelash. You’ll hold those small fragments of him until you see him next.

Finally with resolve he pushes off the bed and goes to the door, pausing only to turn back and say in the most devastating of low tones:

“And then after breakfast I’d like to come back here and fuck you until you can’t walk.”

He closes the door to the sound of your nervous giggles.

///

It's finally happening.

Joel's heart is pounding against his ribs so brutally that for a moment he considers if he's going into cardiac arrest. When he remains upright and alive minutes later, he continues walking up the path to your door.

You want him.

You admitted it.

You said it.

He can still see it, the intensity in your gaze as you whispered those words: “I want you, Joel.”

He’s still having trouble believing it. Still having a hard time understanding how something went from being so complicated to being so simple. He knows you’re worried about the same things he is – how your relationship will affect Sarah if things go wrong.

Simple, they aren’t going to. He knows this in his gut; he knows that you are his. It has been so clear to him these past few months and he hates that you spent any time at all not seeing it like he did.

He knows he’s smiling like an idiot as he strolls up to your door, because having you in his arms last night had felt so right he never wants to let you go. Never.

He turns his mind to more carnal aims, recalling your body’s response to his. He can’t stop thinking about the way your face looked when you came, the sweet way you tasted on his tongue, the gentle curve of your mouth when you looked at him from between his legs.

After putting Sarah to bed last night he’d thrown himself into his own bed with the sound of your moans and whimpers dancing through his brain like music.

“I need you in my mouth, Joel.”

“I want you to be able to see everything.”

“I want you, Joel.”

He had put off stroking himself no longer than thirty seconds.

He could still smell you on his clothes. The perfume you'd worn, warm and tantalizing, had done nothing to stop the stiffening of his member. Had done nothing but fuel his already ardent desire.

Joel… Joel…Joel…

Just the sound of your mouth and tongue wrapping around those four simple letters had him fisting himself under the sheets, his body trembling with want. A few tugs, strokes and images of your head thrown back as he made you come on his tongue caused him to erupt in his hand, grunting and then gasping out your name.

And when you'd asked him to stay? Your face flushed and your eyes bright? You’d been so beautiful that it actually pained him to look at you. That had been the hardest thing to walk away from.

It's this image of you that he carries with him as he knocks on your door, his hands trembling slightly in anticipation. He hears you shuffling inside and suddenly hyperaware he internally berates himself for not bringing flowers or something to mark such a moment.

And then the door opens and instead of your smiling face greeting him, you’re wearing a face you've never worn before. This one is lifeless with eyes that seem devoid of emotion.

It stops him from pulling you into his arms and kissing you deeply as he had planned to, as he had imagined the entire drive over this morning. Instead he just stares at you, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

Something is wrong.

When you speak to offer a very quiet hello, it's with a voice he's never heard from you. Flat and distant sounding. There are dark circles under your eyes that makeup can't conceal. You’re leaning against the door frame as if you can’t support your standing frame. Joel tilts his head, trying to capture your eyes with his.

"Still on for breakfast?" Joel begins, feeling uneasy when you won't make eye contact with him.

He hadn't expected this reaction from you, this chilly indifference.

"I don't really have time for that," you say hollowly to his shoulder. "I'm heading out of town for a bit."

Heading out of town? Joel frowns not recalling you mention any of this. "When will you be back?"

"Couple of weeks," you answer tiredly, still not looking at his face. "Maybe longer. Who knows?"

Weeks? Maybe longer? What the fuck is going on? He takes a step towards you, reaching for you before something catches his eye. The suitcase next to the door, packed and ready to go. When he realizes you’ve had time to think about this, time enough to pack a bag he feels his heart begin to pound for completely different reasons.

A woman he cares for and a packed bag.

How cyclical.

He steps back and feels his entire body shutting down. All at once he feels incredibly stupid for coming here. So incredibly pathetic for sharing everything with you last night. It’s as if someone has taken his chest and squeezed it painfully from the inside.

"Right," he says laughing humorlessly. "Right."

He turns and stalks away from you without pausing. He hopes he’ll hear your snap out of it, that he’ll hear you call his name and you can chalk this up to a weird moment. But he doesn’t because you don’t. Instead he hears your door click shut.

It’s only in the safety of his truck driving home that Joel allows a lingering tear to slip down his cheek.

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