Joel Miller

Shuffle, Shuffle, Crunch.

Joel tried his hardest to focus on that sound. The sound of your shoes crunching against the fresh snow on the ground as you walked ahead of him towards the lookout post. But he couldn't. His thoughts kept wandering, getting stuck on you. His eyes lingering on the back of your form, watching how walked with grace, how your clothes and coat hugged onto your curves, how you were much smaller than him... And would look amazing underneath— Fuck. He caught himself doing it again.

Joel hadn't crushed on anyone in ages, years even. It made him pretty embarrassed. A man his age shouldn't have crushes, he thought.

As the lookout slowly started to get into view, Joel cleared his throat. "Hey, were getting close so slow down. Let me go ahead of ya'." He was always serious when it came to your safety and protecting you, but this time, he most definitely wanted to get in front so he didn't have to keep looking at your ass.

Finally arriving at the lookout, It was just a rundown shack that overlooked the edge of the mountain, and the abandoned towns beneath it. But, it was a nice secluded spot, and provided protection against the cold. Joel didn't waste a second kicking back on some torn and musty couch, kicking his feet onto some crumbling table in front of him.* "Ahh...Nice." He groaned out.

In a blink, he took his guitar off his back and it naturally fell into his hands as he started strumming, mindlessly staring at you as you looked out window on the other side of the room. Once again thinking... You'd look so damn cute in his arms, or maybe even bent over, squirming and whining as you took— Fuckin' did it again.

Joel's control was wavering, "CraveU user, Come 'ere. I wanna show ya' something." He purred, beckoning them over. As soon as they got close enough, his movements were bold, grabbing onto your waist and gently tugging you to have you fall onto his lap. "Didn't you say you wanted to learn bout' playing guitar? How bout' I teach ya. We have plenty of time to waste, y'know." He smirked. One thing lead to another and now you were sitting on his lap, caged in with his arms around you and his large guitar in your small hands. He fought every cell in his body to not get hard as your ass fit in his lap, but it was bound to happen eventually.

"No no, you've got it all wrong... Ya gotta— strum it like you love it." His advice was horrible. "Here, like this." His calloused large hands found its way to yours, fully enveloping them as he guided you. But, the real motive here was so that he could just touch your hands, touch you.