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Joel Miller is a lover. He loves his daughter, and he loves you, but God, he really loves his car. His beat-up old pickup truck, the one in which he leaves empty bottles of Dr. Pepper and Whataburger receipts, was his baby. Your baby, however, was your little blue sedan. Shiny and new (compared to his, at least), full of all your little trinkets and stuffed animals, it was like your safe space. And god bless her, she’d been through a lot: long drives across the state, hitting the curb more often than you should admit, all the damn flash floods in Austin, she had seen it all. And so had Joel. More often than he would have liked to admit. He had sat through your driving, clutching the handle and saying silent prayers to anyone who would listen, while you shrugged off another near miss. Joel hated your damn car. He hated how low to the ground it was, how worn out your tires were, every single thing about it, not that he would ever voice that opinion to you. Not outright, at least, he’d just continue to offer to drive you everywhere like a true gentleman.
In all of your infinite wisdom, you figured you could tough out the drive despite the pouring rain, ignoring the way your car swerved every so often. You manage to make it to Joel’s house with both your car and your body in one piece and run up to the door, getting absolutely soaked in the process. You were practically shaking by the time he opened the door, a towel was wrapped around you immediately. “How many times do I gotta tell you not to drive your death trap in the damn rain?” Like always, you were getting a lecture. You adore Joel. His protectiveness over you was admirable at times, but honestly, his never-ending crusade to make you drive a bigger car makes you want to smack some sense into him.
If you were ever caught driving a pickup truck with those annoying LED headlights, you would need to be checked into a hospital somewhere. “Honestly? I lost track. You big dummy. I just wanted to see you.” He scoffs at your answer like it was the dumbest thing he’d heard in a while. He grumbles, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he pulls you closer to him, his body heat seeping into you.
“Gotta teach you to drive my baby at least…” he sighs, “Just to be safe.” he drones on, rambling about it having more control and being higher up and safer for you, while you continue to drown out his voice as you nuzzle into him. You’d successfully evaded driving lessons with Joel on many occasions, but he seemed more determined with every rejection you gave him. “Can’t do it now anyway, raining cats and dogs out there,” you mumble against his chest, hoping he’d simply move on. That he would see the puppy dog eyes you were flashing him, and he’d crumble like he usually does. And for a while, you’re almost certain he does; he takes you to bed, lets you curl into him, and holds you tight and warm all through the night.
And for a while, once you wake up the next day, you think things are going exactly the way that you want them to; Joel’s arm draped around your middle, the scruff of his beard rubbing against your shoulder, the sun filtering through the curtains, simply a beautiful morning. You sneak out of his arms and tiptoe downstairs to make him a cup of coffee, only just starting the water kettle when you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. “Mmf- mornin’ Sunshine,” his words blow warm air onto the back of your neck, heavy with sleep. “Pretty out today.” You simply hum at him, letting your eyes close gently as you sway with his touch. “Well… no time like right now, baby.” His words catch you off guard, until he’s dragging you to the driveway, keys in his hand. Protests are spewing out of your mouth the whole time he drives you both out to an empty parking lot and gets out of the car to switch seats with you.
“Joel. Joel no. I’m not going to” but he isn’t hearing a damn word of it, practically pushing you into the driver's seat and climbing around to get in. And you’re trying, honest to god you were trying to explain that the truck scared you, that you would never be caught in it, any excuse you could think of, but Joel was leaning over and giving you kisses and whispering soft assurances in your ear. So realistically, you never stood a fighting chance of turning him down.
“Right, adjust the mirrors, Sunshine,” he instructs you, nodding to the rear and side-view mirrors, and your cheeks can't help but heat up.
“I know how to get ready, Joel,” You huff. “If I haven’t had driving lessons since I was a teenager, this is embarrassing, baby.” And what does he have the audacity to do? He laughs. He honestly laughs at you.
“Oh, like that was so damn long ago,” he manages through a deep chuckle. “Young fuckin’ blood, least compared to mine.” You have to roll your eyes, stubborn bastard, always mentioning the age difference. But he’s looking at you with those damn baby cow eyes, so you let out a reluctant sigh and look down at the gears and wait for him to tell you what to do.
“Why in God's name are there three pedals, Miller?” You narrow your eyes at him when he snorts at the question. Honestly, it was a valid question in your eyes. Why were there three pedals? Why would anyone drive a manual if they don't have to? Why was your beloved boyfriend making you look so stupid right now?
“Break and accelerator, y'know those already,” he hums. “The other one’s the clutch, gonna teach you how to treat her real good, baby.” His voice was soft and smooth in the passenger seat next to you, simultaneously soothing and anxiety-inducing. “Just press down on her all the way, keep the car off for now… atta’girl,” he coos, the praise making your belly flutter with butterflies as you follow his every instruction. “Now, baby, shift the car into 1st, and press down on the clutch, but don't stop unless-” The car jerks forward with a jolt, before stalling, when you try to accelerate too early. You gasp and press on the brakes immediately, looking at him with a horrified look on your face.
“Oh god-” you bite on your lip. “See, baby, I told you. I can't do this, so let's just stop. I don't think this is a good idea.” The anxiety and nerves were palpable in your tone, shifting the car into park and resting your head on the wheel. It was exhausting being so bad at something, honestly. It was even more exhausting because your absolute loverboy of a boyfriend was rubbing soothing circles into your thigh.
“S’alright,” he murmurs, “let's just try again, sweet girl, just for me, just one more time… for me?” and well fuck. How would you ever say no to that? When his hand was so comforting on your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. All you could think about now was pleasing him. About his hands on your skin, warm breath hitting the back of your neck, his co-
“Huh?” you snap out of your less-than-appropriate daydream when Joel squeezes your leg, your pupils slightly dilated as you look up at him. If he notices the want in your gaze, he doesn’t say anything, sparing you the embarrassment.
“Said put the car back in neutral, honey… just startin’ over.” You want to argue, really you do, but he never asks you to do anything you don't want to do, so god help you, you were going to drive this damned truck. So with a steadying breath, you put the car back into neutral, shift into first, and slowly start to press on the gas, glancing at Joel, who was nodding encouragingly, when you waited to release the clutch once the car was fully moving. “Atta girl, you’re a natural,” he praises, though all you can hear is the blood rushing to your ears when his finger dips just under the hem of your shorts. You short-circuit, body moving on its own instinct, slamming the brakes (not that the car was moving at more than 10 miles an hour), and shifting the car into park with a frustrated noise.
“Joel. I can't do this,” you whine at him. You're horny beyond belief, frustrated at the idea that not only are you not learning how to drive, but also at the fact that Joel is either unable to pick up how much you want to jump his bones or that he is actively ignoring it. The latter idea pisses you off and makes you want to fuck him even more.
“Yes, you can. No-no.” he’s cutting off any protests that can leave your lips before you can manage to get them fully out. “You can.” He wants to pull you into his lap and coddle you, but he knows that you can figure it out, his smart girl. “C’mon, smarty pants, just one loop ‘round the lot. Figure it out.”
He's got that god awful smirk on his face, and you want to kiss it off until he can’t breathe. “No. Joel, absolutely not.” You know that you’re being a brat, that if you put your mind to it, you’d be able to do a circle, but you just don’t want to anymore. You just want to drive the car back home and drag him back to bed. You simply unlock the door and hop out, pajamas be damned.
When Joel finally manages to understand what’s happening, he comes around the car and nudges you with his shoulder, “Alright, grumpy. What’s wrong?”
You want to hit him. You’re not grumpy, per se, more annoyed and pent up, and you can feel the wetness of your cunt through your sleep shorts. “Just. You just keep-” you drop your head into your hands. Is it embarrassing to admit that you’d gotten worked up over his soothing touches and gentle explanations? Yes, but you’re not a prideful person, so you shove that feeling deep, deep down inside you and lean against him, “keep touching me. Making me all… yknow…”
He lets out a bark of laughter as you trail off, dragging a groan out of you. “Y’sayin I got you all worked up?” his brows are raised in faux shock. “Just from talkin to ya? Oh baby… should’a said something earlier,” he lets out a deep sigh of pity, and swats your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Can’t leave ya all pent up and needy, can I?”
Your eyes are almost pitiful as you scramble to get into the passenger seat, but he’s dragging you into his lap instead. “Joel?” Your brows knit together slightly as he drapes your legs over his thighs. He’s already hard under you, bucking into you just enough to make you hazy.
“Shhh.” his lips are on your jaw before you can process what’s happening. All you could think about was his fingers slipping into your constantly needy pussy and stretching you open for him. For his hand to wrap around your neck while you bounce on his cock. It was too much. He could see how needy you were, but his love for teasing you outweighs his desperation.
Joel glances at your legs when his nails rake over them lightly. Enamored by the goosebumps that had formed over the soft skin of your thighs. God, those thighs. He loved them more than anything he could see, and considering he spent so much time between them, probably more than oxygen, too. “Too much?” he snorts, “I ain't even done anything to ya.” And sure, he was right. He hadn't necessarily done anything to you, had barely just been grazing your skin, but why was that setting you off? It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him in ages, it wasn’t even like it had been that long since you’d fucked him.
You were starting to feel like a feral animal, like your baser cavewoman needs were coming out to taunt you. “I know that, Jesus.” You groan at him, face planting against his shoulder, “but Christ- i just. I need you to fuck me, joel.” If the words took you by surprise, they shook Joel to his core. You weren’t bold, not with him at least. You let him take control, gave him longing glances from across rooms, teasing touches here and there just so he would get the hint. “Just. I don't know. I just please… baby please.” You were desperate for him, something about how caring and patient he was sending waves through your body.
“Christ, honey-” he was taken aback, but definitely not opposed, “are you ovulatin’? Sounds like you’re in damn heat.” There was a stupid smirk on his face. He was fucking with you, trying to get a rise out of you, and normally it would have worked, but today you could not have given any less of a fuck.
Your arms rest on his shoulders as you bring him into a heated kiss, your hips grinding against his, moaning softly against his lips. “Need you so bad…” His tongue presses against your lip, seeking entry into your mouth, which you gave to him with zero hesitation. You did feel like you were in heat, like there was an ache inside of you that only he could fill. You pull away, warm breath hitting his skin as your nose presses against his.
The look in Joel’s eyes was hungry, gaze unbroken, as your movements, as your fingers run over his thighs. He seldom wore shorts, usually opting for a pair of worn-out pants, but with the weather clearing up for spring, his legs were out in all their glory. You loved being able to see them, to kiss the tanned skin and feel the coarse hairs against your cheek when you looked up at him with big eyes. Your hands undo the drawstring of his shorts, pulling at the waistband like the fabric was the only thing keeping you from water in a desert. “Baby, please-” your words are eager, body craving him as you rut against his ever-hardening cock.
“Filthy thing, y’know that?” He bites under your jaw, “gonna let me fuck you in my truck, hm? Out here, where anyone can drive by?” Of course you were. There was no way in hell that you would say anything except yes, so you simply nod pathetically, preening at his touch. “I got ya, Sunny.” The rough tips of his fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, seeking out the warmth of your cunt and slipping through your folds.
“Oh fuck” you squeak when he drags them over your sensitive clit. The movements aren’t rushed, always slow and sweet like honey. Like he is with you; patient, kind, sweeter than anything you’d had in your life. “More.” It made you want to entangle yourself with him, to never let go and just become fully his in every single way. He’s grinning against your jaw, fingers working you just enough to keep you wound up.
“Atta girl…” he groans, licking a stripe up your neck and making your fingers curl in his shirt. Your wetness is practically all over his palm when he slides a finger inside of your weeping cunt, your head falling into the crook of his neck. “Yeah… that's what I like to hear,” he lets you hold onto him while his finger pumps into you, the truck heavy and hot with your whimpers and moans. “Filthy thing, ain't ya sunny?” he coos, “letting me finger you in my truck, huh? Would let me fuck you too, hm?”
“Mmf-” you groan into his skin, hazy and somehow already close to the edge, “yeah. Yes- fuck yes please, Joel.” Shame was beyond you; rocking your hips to brush your clit against his palm, chasing your high without any other thoughts. It was pathetic, frankly, the pure desperation in your movements, the tangible need in your mewls.
Joel found it endearing, though. Thinks it was cute how worked up he can get you with the smallest touches. It fuels his ego, makes his dick harder than it had been before if that was possible. “There you go…” he bites at your collarbone when he curls his fingers and draws you over the edge, “cum for me, sunny… go on, get what’cha need.” His fingers don’t stop moving until he’s wrung your orgasm out of you, until you’re panting and pushing at his chest to get a break. “Goin’ home. Gonna tear a hole in my pants.” He doesn't even bother to put you in the passenger seat, just adjusts you on his lap so he can see the road, and drapes his arm over the passenger seat to reverse. Yeah. It'll be a long weekend.