Chapter Text
You aren’t sure when it started. You just know you never want it to stop. Joel has been your neighbor for the past three years. You never paid him much mind, not until your dad started bringing him around more. It was then that you noticed how handsome he was, in a rugged kind of way. And how lonely.
It became a sort of ritual.
You were changing into your swimsuit to meet your friends at the lake, lathering your skin with tanning oil in your room when you felt…watched. Glancing out your window, you spotted him. Mr. Miller, mowing his lawn, a ratted baseball cap on his head and his tan skin shirtless, exposed to the sun. Staring right at you.
You had blushed, a fluttering in your pelvis that made you feel bold. You blame it on the fluttering, your behavior. The fact that you had untied the back of your bikini, let them dangle before letting them go completely slack, falling away to reveal your breasts. He hadn’t looked away, but even from the distance you could tell he’d been surprised. He’d stared for a few moments before tucking his cap, and going back to his lawn.
You thought about that interaction all day, stuffing your cunt with your fingers that night until you came with his name on your tongue.
It had progressed quickly after that. The first time he kissed you had been on Memorial Day, a burnt hamburger in one hand and your face in the other. He’d gotten so lost in the feel of your lips on his, your tongue prodding at his mouth that he’d dropped his hamburger, crushed it under his sneaker in his haste to get closer to you.
When he’d taken off your clothes for the first time, sneaking you over after Sarah had gone to bed, he had spent hours worshipping you. He’d kissed every square inch of your skin, made you see stars on his tongue. He’d coaxed you to crest multiple times, and by the time you had to go home, you’d been boneless, fried with a delicious ache between your legs.
Joel wasn’t your first. But he was certainly your best. Every touch, every caresse left you feeling like you were floating, counting the minutes until you saw him again.
It was a whirlwind of hidden kisses and gentle hands that you craved, and he could never get enough of.
He should feel bad.
He knows he should.
But as he stares down at your spread thighs, cunt greedily clenching around his length, he can’t find that he does.
Joel presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, your ankle leaning on his neck as he thrusts in and out, taking him exactly like he likes. Like you were made for this.
“You should really leave.”
There’s the pesky situation.
You’re panting, your lips red and parted, bare tits bouncing with each thrust. “Dad’ll be- home soon.”
Your father, his best friend, would probably kill him if he ever knew. If he ever found out the way that Joel bends you over, stuffs you full. The way you beg for it, eyes big and slit dripping. He can’t ever say no to you, but especially when you ask like that, which is how he found himself fucking you on your dining room table in your family home.
“You don't want me here, sugar?” Joel asks, his hand snaking down your leg to grip your hip. “Then why does your body say otherwise?”
You groan, pink nails scratching at the edge of the table as his thrust grow harder.
“I-i need it.”
“Need what?”
You gasp, your brows pinching and Joel slaps the side of your ass, hard. A yelp escapes your lips and your back bows. “Y-you. Need you.”
He wants- needs- to tell you that you don't. He wants to tell you to go, to run away. To find someone better, not him.
But the way you tighten around him, the way your eyes soften and your breath hitches-
He knows better. He knows he's a selfish man, a weak one.
And it's for you that he'll be a sinner.
His hand grips your chin, tilting your eyes up to meet his. His expression is stern, a little demanding.
There is something there. Something he’s never said out loud and doesn't really let himself think about, but it shows in the way his hand is holding your chin. The possessiveness of his grip.
He gives your cheek a pat in retaliation for the sass.
“I know baby,” he murmurs, fingers moving to your clit and begins a slow, hard circular movement with his thumb. “I gotcha.”
You hiccup, your cunt clenching and he has to bite his cheek harder to stop his own orgasm as you fly through yours.
“Shh, shh.” He whispers, releasing your chin to press his hand over your mouth.
He can feel the heat of your breath, the way it quickens as he continues to touch you. He watches your face carefully, the way your eyes flutter shut as he pushes you closer to the edge, the way your body arches against him, desperate and wanting.
His own climax slams into him like a punch to the gut; hot, relentless, the kind of release that leaves his head spinning. He doesn’t pull out, can’t bring himself to, not when you’re still trembling beneath him. Instead, he leans in closer until his forehead presses against yours and removes his hand. His breath is ragged as it fans over your lips.
For a second, just one fucking second, he lets himself stay there. Lets himself pretend this is something it isn’t, something more.
Then the sound of an engine drags both your attention and his to the front window, and you jump from the table, adjusting your shirt and skirt as he tucks himself back into his jeans. You look at him with wide eyes before dashing to the bathroom and he runs to the kitchen sink, turning on the faucet and washing your slick from his mouth and hands.
The door opens and Joel turns quickly, his hands bracketing the edge of the sink just as your dad comes walking in, arms laden with groceries.
“Joel!” He exclaims, his brows knitting. “What’re you doing here?”
“He was just coming for your chain saw,” You interrupt, rounding the corner of the kitchen, a dark green chainsaw in hand. “I figured you’d let him borrow it so i went to get it for him but your garage is a mess so it took forever.”
Your dad rolls his eyes with a playful grin as he sets down the bags. You pass Joel the saw, fingers brushing his and he gives you a quick nod.
He ignores the pink that’s still in your cheeks, the way your hands are still warm from being intertwined with his.
“Here you go,” you say, the lie easy. “Sorry it took me so long.”
It's clear that your father hasn't caught on, and Joel takes the chainsaw from you with a nod of thanks, careful to keep his expression neutral. It's a skill he's perfected over the years, hiding his true feelings.
“Thanks,” he mutters, his gaze flickering to you for a split second before he looks away again. “Yeah, I've been meaning to borrow that. Appreciate it.”
You smile, wide and devilish and Joel wonders if his cum is dripping down your thighs.
You move away, leaning on the opposite side of the counter as your father bundles up the plastic bags.
“Finish up your work?” He asks, eyes moving to you and you nod.
“College classes aren’t nearly as hard as everyone said they’d be,” you reply, and shrug. “I’m up to date on all my classes and it’s only Wednesday.”
“Smart cookie,” your dad beams. “Ain’t she Joel?”
Joel clears his throat, shifting the chainsaw under his arm. He looks anywhere but at you, the way your skirt is still riding up over one of your thighs, the hint of pink peeking out. He swallows thickly.
“She is.” He manages to choke out. He doesn't even have to feign the admiration lacing his tone. “She's pretty goddamn smart.”
You smile, dismissing their praise with a light wave. “It’s easy.”
Your father begins to list off the classes he took that you’re also taking, and how they were hard for him but seem to be easy for you. Joel is only half listening. He can’t take his eyes off you, the forbidden fruit that he’s already tasted and wants to taste again.
“I should get goin’,” Joel grunts, nodding awkwardly. “Sarahs uh, probably waiting.”
“Good to see you Joel,” your father shakes his hand, and Joel feels a prick of that guilt in his chest. “Honey, walk him out?”
You push off from the counter, glancing at him as you stroll into the hallway. “Sure.”
Joel follows you, his fingers flexing at his sides as he steps out onto the front porch. The air is cool, a stark contrast to the heat still simmering low in his gut. He turns to look at you, taking in how flushed your lips still are from earlier, the way your shirt is slightly rumpled where his hands had been gripping it too tight.
For a moment, neither of you speak.
Then he exhales sharply through his nose and runs a hand down his face before muttering under his breath. “Fuck.”
“What’s the matter, Mr. Miller?” You ask politely, like he hasn’t seen you naked, like he hasn’t tasted the salt of your skin.
“Don’t,” he bites, and you have to swallow down your grin. “If your dad-“
“I’m twenty-four years old,” you shoot back. “I’m not a child. I drink and have sex and know what I want.”
“Jesus, kid-“ He grits out, jaw tight. “It ain't about you being *a child.* It's about the fact that your daddy trusts me and I just- fuck.” He drags a rough hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. “Do you even know what you're doin'? You think this ends well for either of us?” His eyes are dark, burning into yours like he’s trying to make you understand something without saying it. That this, whatever this is, is messy and complicated and so dangerous because he knows what you mean.
You blink a few times, inhaling through your nose. “What do you want Joel?”
He doesn’t answer. Can’t answer, and you frown.
“You’re gonna make this hard huh.” You murmur, and he scowls because it isn’t that simple and you know it. Folding your arms, your frown deepens. “I go back to school in a few weeks anyways.”
“A few weeks-“ He repeats, his brow furrowing at your words. “And then what?” He can't keep the anger and frustration from his voice, his hand moving to grip the railing to keep from taking you by the shoulders and shaking you. You gonna find yourself another guy at college? Some pretty boy who can't keep his eyes or his hands to himself? Is that the plan?”
“I don’t know, maybe!” You shoot back, and his spine tightens. “Not like it should bother you.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t.”
You both know it’s a lie, the absolute opposite of what he truly means. He doesn’t know when it got so messed up. When you turned into something else.
He turns away, taking the porch steps two at a time and you don’t stop him. You watch him cross the street, slamming his front door behind him and when you’re alone you wilt like a petal.
In his home Joel drops the chainsaw, racks a hand through his hair. He swears he won’t touch you again, won’t dream about your thighs or the sound of your laugh. He won’t answer when you call.
And for five, long years, he keeps his promise.
He heard about your birthday party from your dad. You were coming home for the week to celebrate with your folks, bringing a fiance in tow. He acts like it doesn’t make his mouth run dry at the idea.
Naturally Joel and Sarah are invited but with Sarah away for the summer on a college retreat, it’s just him. He figures with how much time it’s been, he’d be fine seeing you again. He had seen you here and there over the years, but from a distance, never going over when you were in town. Now as he stares down at the text from your dad, he wonders if he can handle it.
He decides he can.
He brings a case of beer and shaves a few hours before the party starts. When he walks into the backyard there’s groups of people, your dad already at the grill flipping burgers. Your mother ushers him in, directing him to the kitchen to put the beers in the fridge. He thanks her politely, the AC smacking him the moment he walks inside.
Several women gather in the kitchen, organizing the fruit and hamburger buns and he excuses himself as he squeezes through to the fridge.
“Mr. Miller?”
He pauses, lets the fridge hang open for a few moments before he spares a glance over his shoulder.
Joel turns, eyes moving over the women behind him before settling on you. You're all grown up, he thinks in spite of himself. You're a goddamn woman now.
He clears his throat, closing the fridge with a jerk as his free hand goes to his hip. “Hey.”
“Hi,” you smile, taking a few steps forward and surprising him with a hug. “It’s been a while.”
Over a thousand days but who’s counting he thinks bitterly.
He hadn’t loved you back then, not really. But he had cared for you. Too much, way too much. So much that he wonders if he could have, if the time had been right.
He tries to make a glance at your left hand inconspicuous, but your hands are in your pockets now and he can’t tell if there’s a ring on your finger.
He returns the embrace with a tentative pat on the back, trying hard to ignore the way your scent, that's still you somehow, makes him dizzy. You pull away after a moment, and he misses the way your curves pushed against him, the softness of your body. You're as gorgeous as the last time he'd seen you, more so even.
“Yeah,” he grunts, glancing at your left hand as subtly as he can. “How ya been?”
“Good! Finally graduated and working,” you laugh, shrugging. “You know. Grown up things.”
“Yep,” Joel hums, and nods once. “Heard you got married.”
Your face falls but just for a moment and you tuck your hair behind your ears. “Oh, no actually. It…didn’t work out.”
Joel's heart gives a thump against his ribcage at your words, and he hopes to god you don't notice the flicker of satisfaction on his face. It shouldn't make him feel good, but it does, that you're not wearing someone else's ring on your finger. It makes him hopeful, a feeling he hasn't felt in a long, long time. He clears his throat, shoving that thought away. “Sorry to hear that.”
The tone of his voice suggests he's not sorry at all.
You give a weak smile, folding your arms as if to protect the muscle thumping in your chest. “S’okay. Better now than if I took his last name right?”
Joel's expression darkens at the mention of you taking some other man's surname, and he shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from doing something stupid, like reaching for you.
“Guess that's true.” He grits out, watching you closely, the way your eyes keep flickering over his face, like you're trying to memorize his features.
“How’s Sarah?” You ask, changing the subject and he lets you. He tells you about his daughter, what she’s studying, and you applaud him. “Wow she’s so grown up.”
Joel's chest swells with paternal pride as he talks about Sarah. She's his whole world, always has been. “Yeah, she's somethin' else. Gonna end up doin' real good in this world, I think.” He looks at you, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “Takes after me though, of course.”
You snicker, nodding. “Right of course.”
Joel grins, and pulls a beer from the pack he had placed in the fridge. “Want one?”
“God yes,” you exclaim, taking it from him. Your nails are light orange and they scrape his finger lightly. “This heat is strangling.”
“That's Texas for ya." He mutters, clearing his throat to dispel the sudden tension. “Always hot as hell.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” you mutter, popping the tab. “That’s one thing I like about Tennessee. Still hot just, not like this.”
He listens to you prattle on about Tennessee, about your school and your friends and your life that’s states away. He realizes that he’s missed out on so much, that while you’re still the same girl who kissed him til he was weak in the knees, you’ve also become someone else. It makes him miss you all the more.
“Where is the birthday girl?” Your mother calls and you turn towards the noise. Joel takes a slow swing of his beer, watching your hair swish over your shoulder.
“I should go to her,” you sigh, putting down your beer bottle. “I think they’re gonna cut the cake soon. Meet you out there?”
“Save me a slice.” he agrees, nodding at you. You smile, a real one that pulls at your lips before you go out the back door to the patio and your party, and Joel leans against the kitchen counter, willing his heart to slow.
It's a mistake, being here, and he knows it. Seeing you, talking to you, being in the same room as you after years apart has his body reeling like it's on fire. He has to get a grip on himself, and fast.
There’s a bubble of voices from outside, and Joel walks to the window, watching as your mother holds a white frosted cake with candles up to you. Your dad holds your shoulders, grinning with an expression that matches your own and you laugh in light embarrassment as everyone sings. Another woman with dark hair, maybe a friend of yours from school, hugs you tight before you blow out the candles and everyone claps. Joel watches with light envy, wishing he could touch you as brazenly as they do, and he takes a long swig.
You look happy. You’re surrounded by love, with a smart head on your shoulder and a big heart and he doesn’t belong anywhere near it. He’ll just screw it up. With quiet resignation, he chucks the bottle into the trash, and leaves out the front door quietly, leaving you to your celebrations that have no space for a man like him.