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Joel Miller is not a man who understands relationships well. Nor has he ever been good with them. He keeps to himself, choosing to remain closed off. Each offer for a coffee after school drop off ends or dinner at one of the nicer restaurants around town are all turned down with a tone that’s polite enough and borders on cold for anyone who doesn’t know him well enough. Emotionally unavailable, one of the women from the school’s mothers group had called him. He supposes there’s some truth to it. Joel is a man who swore never again to wear his heart on his sleeve after all.
It’s for a good cause, he tells himself. Sarah doesn’t need the stress of meeting a new woman, nor the inconsistency of being placed second in priority to any potential girlfriend. Not his babygirl. Joel is a dad now, a single dad. And he’s made peace with that. At least that’s what he tells himself each night. Maybe Sarah does want that female role model to call ‘mom’ at the end of the day and cheer her on at soccer practice beside Joel. He’s buried that long before he can ever begin to answer that question.
He has his routine now, settled comfortably into the role of single dad. Bedtimes set, school lunches packed, laundry folded, in the car for school by seven-thirty in the morning. It’s not exciting but it's fulfilling. And that’s more than he can ask for right now. He tells himself there’s no room for anything extra in his day.
But as Joel watches Tommy and Maria, he can’t help but think about it. He’s lonely. The two of them leave a heavy feeling in his chest, like he’s stuck behind a shield of glass. Forever believing he’ll be unable to find the kind of connection he’d once known. It’s a far cry to hope for anything remotely similar to what his brother and Maria have. That feeling of security, domesticity, comfort. A pang of guilt hits him as he remembers the way Tess walked out the door and out of his life after the third attempt of trying to make it work. Both of them were unable to convince each other that they were anything more than friends. But that’s all far away now, faded memories and the phantom feeling of kisses he’d felt a long time ago.
He can live with that, he tells himself. But it starts to feel less and less convincing each day that passes.
Joel hasn’t had sex with someone in well over a year. That number grows to be even greater for anyone who managed to stay longer than one night. He’s taken to sleeping in the middle of the bed, a book stacked on each bedside, collecting dust as the nights are spent alone thinking up at the ceiling. His home is sparsely decorated, with no one waiting for him at the end of a hard day’s work to tell him the house needs a spring clean or some serious redecorating. The divorce papers left on the kitchen counter from Sarah’s mother were merely just the nail in the coffin for Joel’s lackluster love life.
It’s harder when Sarah is at school. The house is dreadfully empty, quiet. He considered getting a dog, if only to hear an extra set of footsteps in the house. The only real respite from his restless mind these days are your visits. Whether it’s meeting at the steakhouse for dinner, the weekly football game, or Tommy’s barbecue that Joel insists you tag along to for the sake of his sanity. You are one of the few people that doesn't make Joel feel lonely. He doesn’t look at you and yearn, he feels safe enough to lean on you, to confide in you over a beer and a good laugh. His best friend.
Whether it’s the stress of work or his struggles with the women in his life, or lack thereof, Joel knows he can trust you. Not once have you laughed or dismissed his emotions, even when it takes him half an hour of stubborn emotional inner conflict to admit he’s terribly lonely. You’ve always listened, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder with a firm squeeze. Stable. That’s what you are. The touch you provide easing all of Joel’s worries. You understand him, you’re all he needs.
And you’re great with kids, with Sarah. He trusts you more than he’s willing to admit.
Whenever Tommy needs to whisk him away for an extra hand on fixing up the porch or finishing up whatever project he’s working on, Joel can always rest easy when you agree to babysit for the night and watch over her. There’s never any nerves when he gives you the keys before he waves goodbye. You are Joel’s longest and closest friend. You’re as much family to him as Tommy or Maria.
Only you can make his heart feel warm when he comes through the door well past midnight, just to find you asleep in front of the television with Sarah dozing beside you. Empty cups of hot chocolate sit on the coffee table and her head is pillowed on your shoulder. The sounds of your snores drowning out the movie.
Joel always notices the smell of home cooked dinner that lingers in the house, and the spare plate you leave for him to eat later. Or the way your boots are plonked alongside his and Sarah’s at the door, coated in a layer of damp snow. You’re an integral part of Joel’s life, of Joel himself.
The next morning, when he watches you get back in your pickup and pull out of his driveway with a wave to him and Sarah, Joel silently wonders what it would be like if you lived together.
–
School’s back in swing from the holidays, the cooler weather bringing along the ever-present loneliness now that Sarah is out for most of the day. Even at work, it’s barely enough to keep his agitated mind at bay. Too much free time to think now that he’s not playing board games and watching movies during the break.
He waits in the car outside of the gates, the heater keeping him warm whilst he waits to pick up his daughter once the bell rings. Joel’s fingers rub over the worn leather on the steering wheel as the engine hums silently in the background. It’s boring, he thinks, tilting his wrist to recheck the time on his watch. It’s been three minutes since he last checked. He sighs, rubbing a tired hand over his face, thumb brushing over the stubble on his chin. Sitting idle with his thoughts is not Joel’s forte and yet he finds himself doing it whenever he’s alone.
It’s really an afterthought when his eyes drift over towards two men walking across the street, unimposing and going about their day. With a coffee in hand, they walk towards the direction of Joel. it’s not until he notices their free hands are intertwined with each other’s, engrossed in an effortless conversation. He wonders what they’re talking about.
They look like old lovers, not youngsters in their twenties. But it’s the ease in which they walk hand in hand with each other, comfortable and light, that has Joel’s chest aching, a sour feeling settling over him. Their eyes hold so much affection for one another, like their whole world is standing right next to them. An everyday intimacy Joel has long forgotten about.
The brunette laughs at something the redhead says, his head falling back to reveal a faint mark that peeks out of the collar of his shirt. He can almost picture how it was put there, placed along the curve of the brunette’s neck. Something heated, warm and passionate underneath the cover of darkness, pressed against the heat of a mattress. Or maybe it was something far softer; a press of lips against warm skin and stubble. Protected under the early morning sunshine that filters through the window.
He tries to visualise it in his mind, but it’s blurry. Joel understands the basics of two men together, but the details elude him. It’s not something he ever thought it was worth thinking about. He’s never been in a situation where he’s on the receiving end of another man’s attention. Except for that one dreadful time at the pub when he had been oblivious to the flirty words of another patron at the bar.
You had laughed, warm and rumbly from your chest after Joel sat down beside you with your drinks, unaware that the entire interaction had been an attempt to get his number.
Joel watches as the brunette and the redhead pass by his car, the fog seemingly to clear and the moment is lost. Reality crashes back down at the sound of the door opening and closing as Sarah hops into the backseat of the car, shaking off her jacket. The image is gone, but the ache in his chest never truly fades.
“Hey kiddo, how was school?”
–
The image of the couple remains with Joel well into the months passing. Winter has truly settled in now. With frost coating the windows, the shovel taken out of the cupboard and left by the door for everyday use, a snowman guarding the front lawn. Joel finds himself making hot chocolates for Sarah and trying hopelessly to stitch up the holes in her coats and beanies.
It’s in the dead of night, when he’s alone under a layer of warm blankets, whiskey settling heavy in his gut to compliment the hum of arousal that simmers and brews away. Joel slides a hand under his boxers, pushing past the waistband. It’s a feeling so foreign with just how long it's been.
He lets his mind wander, trying to think of long hair, sticky lipstick and scented perfume that borders on too sweet– relying on the same old fantasies which stopped feeling exciting years ago but that get the job done. He wraps a hand around himself, arching slightly as precum makes the slide over his cock easier. Joel bites his lip, brow furrowed as his imagination gives way to the thought of a solid chest, the sprinkle of hair across warm skin that trails down to a navel. The scrape of stubble over his inner thighs, leaving kisses and marks in their wake. It's easier to picture than he assumed, the roughness of his own palm gifting the illusion he’s not alone. Perhaps it’s one of the other single dad’s, or the lad who works over at the hardware store, or you.
Heat pools in his stomach at the thought of you, his best friend.
“Ngh, fuck.” he mumbles.
Joel thumbs the slit, his cock twitching in his hand as he imagines you next to him, your weight settled on top of him like a security blanket as he chokes back a moan and gives himself over to you.
A hand covers his mouth as his orgasm hits suddenly, far closer to the edge than he thought he was. His chest heaves and his thighs shake as he rides out the strongest orgasm he’s had in a long time. Come coats his fist as he strokes himself, grinding up into his palm to draw out the last of his pleasure.
In the darkness of his room alone, all sated and spent, Joel brings his palm up and licks the come off his hand whilst it’s still warm. For a moment, he can pretend it's yours.
–
When he sees you for the weekly game that plays on cable, Joel’s stomach all but drops and guilt washes over him and settles uncomfortably in his chest. He takes it all back. Feeling lonely and wanting is far better than whatever feelings he’s holding for you. It’s more than just your looks, he realises. Joel really loves you. He feels safe with you, enough to be vulnerable and confide his turmoils with. The thought of ever telling you what’s going on in head scares him shitless.
As you walk into Joel’s house, it’s warm and inviting. Enough to strip your coat, shaking it off to remove the excess snow. Joel’s left space for you in his life, an extra space on the coat hanger by the door, a dozen eggs instead of six, an extra beer placed in the fridge. Little things you’ve noticed. You occupy his living room, his kitchen and now almost always, you take pride and place in his bedroom when he’s alone at night.
Joel watches as you sit next to him on the couch, hyper aware of the space between you two, or lack thereof. He tries to focus on the game. The cheering, the scorecard, the pass of the ball from player to player, but it all feels a million miles away. You, however, feel all too close and Joel feels like he’s about to say something stupid.
“You okay?” You ask softly, breaking the silence of the room. He watches you turn towards him, shifting on the couch with your beer balanced on your knee. You’ve always listened to him, given him the space he needs to talk if he wants. Joel almost hates the soft gentle tone of your voice, it makes him want to tell you everything.
“Yeah, ‘m good.” He says, it sounds unconvincing even to his own ears. “Just stressed with work and Sarah’s school and stuff..”
You know he’s lying. Joel’s never stressed about work, the tasks come easy to him, working away with his hands helps him think rather than stress. And he takes to looking after Sarah like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Of course he worries like any dad would, but it’s not like him to get all quiet and fidgety through a football game.
“Alright.” Your voice is gentle, understanding he doesn’t want to talk about it. You place a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. Trying to convey without words that you’ve got him, that he’s not alone.
Joel’s quiet for a long time, but the way he leans into your touch doesn't go unnoticed. The game rumbles in the background, both of you watching it and neither paying attention.
“Have you ever… have you ever been with a man?” Joel asks, awkward and shaky. Uncertain. His arms folded over his chest as he shuffles uncomfortably, silently scolding himself for asking outright. But how else was he supposed to say it?
You can hear the tremble in his voice, the underlying fear written within the words. Unsaid and yet read all the same. Joel knows you’re more accepting than most, there’s been countless instances throughout your friendship to suggest you’d have no problem with such a question. And yet the man who is a born and bred Texan, who knows the way neighbours talk and strangers stare. His mind falls back to the brunette and the redhead, and the kind of things they must have to face.
“Yeah, I have.” You nod, your expression soft as you see the range of emotions crossing over his face. Shock, relief, confusion and fear.
“You have?” Joel asks in disbelief, like he won’t believe it until he’s heard it again. You’d tell him a million times if you had to. “How did you know…? That you were interested, I mean.”
“Well,” You start, a hand rubbing over your chin. “I kind of figured it out when I was real young, you know, a boy in my class, the neighbour's son, that kind of thing. But I didn’t really get it all figured out till I got to college. You know how the south is.”
“Yeah… I know.” Joel nods solemnly, it’s something he’s been thinking about over and over for months now. He opens his mouth, ready to speak and then a beat later not so ready. Joel closes his mouth, fidgets awkwardly under the silence. He doesn’t know what to do with the information of knowing that you, his best friend, have probably already gone through all the inner turmoil he has right now. But you’ve come out the other side, comfortable with yourself all these years later. Joel would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous.
“Is that why you’ve been so stressed lately?” You ask, watching as Joel nods and takes a swig of the beer, wishing it was whiskey.
“You know you don’t have to hide how you’re feeling with me, Joel.” You place a gentle hand on his elbow, the touch grounding and Joel realises how desperately he needs to let it out. He’s held it in for far too long.
“I know, it’s just-” Joel cuts himself off, frustrated with himself that he can’t confide in you how he usually does. He needs you, your comfort. The normalcy you bring. “It’s something I've been thinkin’ about for a while now. But it ain’t as simple as just acting on it.”
Your hand moves up from his elbow to his shoulder again, your thumb brushing over the warm skin of his neck where the collar of his shirt ends. He shivers slightly, the touch lovely and cosy with the cold weather raging outside. Joel looks down at your hand on his shoulder. Then to your face where his eyes trail down to your lips.
Oh, you think. Realize. You know that look. Joel’s clearly thought about it and he’s thought about you specifically. There’s a hint of vulnerability and guilt in his eyes, his expression so raw. Like he’s finally decided to drop that emotional stoicism and reach a hand out for you.
The empty beer bottles are put down on the coffee table, as you turn to face Joel. One hand gently coming up to cup his cheek as the anticipation builds.
“Can I?” You ask softly, not wanting to break the fragile moment.
“Please.” Joel nods, and you lean forward. Lips press against lips and you feel the bristling of his stubble against your own as he leans into the kiss. His hands hesitate against the couch, curled into fists before he relaxes into the feel of your hands against his cheeks and your lips parting to feel each other more.
Your tongue swipes across his teeth and you feel the vibration of his moan as he opens his mouth and lets you explore your mouth. Joel’s hands unclench from the couch and he holds onto your shirt, pulling you closer so your legs start to tangle as you both spread out on the couch. When you pull away for breath, Joel is panting against your lips, the tip of his nose brushing over your cheek in a warm gesture.
“Too much?” You ask, not wanting to push him too far too soon.
He shakes his head, still holding onto your shirt as if he’s afraid to let go. “No, not at all.”
You kiss him once, and then again. Then, before you know it, the halftime break is up and the game resumes in the background, but it’s lost on you both. The feeling of Joel pressed against you, the low thrum of arousal that grows between you. It’s far better than any game going on.
Joel slides down off the couch, and for a moment you think he’s fallen with the way he settles on his knees with a soft thud. But as he looks up at you, his chin resting on your leg, you know he went there willingly.
“Can I?” He says softly. Now it’s his turn to ask you, to want to be given permission as he tugs at your jeans slightly.
“You don’t have to–”
“I want to.” Joel says, shaking his head as he looks up at you with more certainty than he’s shown all night.
He’s wanted this for months now, the feel of another man. And yet, Joel is ill prepared for the intimacy of the moment. The warmth of your skin, the scent of sweat and arousal. The way your fingers slide through his short, shabby hair, guiding him down onto your length for the first time. You moan softly, hands cradling his head as he takes your into his mouth. God that’s good. Both of you are lost in the sensation of the other. The feel of your cock, warm and heavy under his tongue. And the warmth in your gut as Joel licks away the precum that beads from your tip.
The faint flicker of blue light from the game in the background bounces off his hair, catching the dark strands and illuminates a faint silver glow. A halo of soft light around his curls and the shadows cast over the curve of his nose as he looks up at you, the head of your cock swallowed around his lips. It’s intoxicating and you can’t help but moan at the sight of Joel below you.
Arousal settles in his belly, the strain of his own erection pushing at the zipper of his jeans. But Joel barely passes a thought for his own pleasure, instead captivated by the jut of your hips as you begin to thrust shallowly into his mouth.
“Steady, there you go baby.” You drawl, your voice heavy with arousal. Just the sight of Joel between your legs, moaning on your cock is enough to make you feel close. He gets too ahead of himself, too desperate and eager to feel you as he tries to take you all the way down. A gag is torn from him, and he can’t help but drool and splutter, pulling back from your length as it rests against his cheek, connected by a line of spittle.
“I don’t know what I'm doing.” Joel admits. The statement takes more vulnerability than he’s willing to admit, but it’s masked by the roughness in his voice, his accent raw and drawn out.
“Just open your mouth wide and let your tongue fall over your teeth, darlin’.” You soothe, hands cupping either side of his head.
Joel does as you’ve told, taking comfort and pleasure in your instruction. He likes it when you’re in charge. He can lose himself in your calming words, your experience helping him let go. He’s not worried about impressing you or messing up. Instead he just focuses on the heavy weight of your length on his tongue and the salty taste of precum. His own cock twitches in his pants and he realizes he could come untouched if he really wanted. But he had a feeling you’d take care of him regardless.
This is what he has been missing for so long now. Not just sex. But intimacy and safety. You’re his confidant, of course he trusts you to take care of him. Joel moans around you, his hands clutching at your thighs as he feels you move in and out of his mouth.
“Joel– ‘m close darlin’.” You warn gently, fingers tightening around his hair as your hips start to lift off the couch slightly. Joel groans, the thought of you finishing in his mouth causing his eyes to close as he buries his nose in your curls and sucks hard.
“Oh fuck.” Your moan is drowned out by the crowd cheering for a touchdown, and your hands stroke his sweaty hair off his forehead. Joel moans as he swallows your come, warm and a little salty. It trickles down his chin when you pull away, and if it wasn’t for his own arousal starting to ache, he’d have stayed down there on his knees for another hour.
You reach down, your thumb brushing away the mess on his chin before you’re kissing him and pulling him back up onto the couch with you. The taste of yourself lingers on his lips and Joel pants for breath between kisses, shuffling out of his jeans whilst trying to stay plastered to you.
“You know, for your first blowjob, you’re not too bad, darlin’.” You chuckle lightly, watching as he settles back against the armrest of the couch, a hand wrapped lazily around himself as he strokes his length.
Joel can’t help but laugh soft, trailing off into a soft gasp as you start to kiss your way down his chest to his navel.
“Gonna let me repay the favour, mh?” You ask with a smile, wrapping your hand around his own to set the pace.
“Ngh, don’t leave me hanging, darlin’.” He moans softly, laying back against the couch as his eyes close.
Your smile is warm and playful as you settle between his legs, knowing just how good you’re going to make your man feel. Because he’s yours. He has been for a long time, it just took Joel a while to realise it.