Hands, J Burrow

summary; something about his hands..

warnings; joe being cocky..., mentions of smut, teasing, joe being hot for no reason,

word count; 552

note; i love hands, thank you to my favs for another great game yesterday. so so sorry for my disappearance, i'm finally free from responsibility and home for two weeks

Your fingers absentmindedly ran along Joe's hand that was planted lovingly on your thigh. Tracing along the veins that lie there, following them up his arm, he wasn't paying any attention to it. You're always touching his hands, so much that he doesn't mind to pull them away.

Tonight the show of choice was "You," as he scrolled looking for something good to watch, you noticed there would be a new season. Why not re-watch to assure everyone's all caught up?

However, your mind was no where near on the tv show, choosing instead to admire the man next to you. His free hand traced tiny symbols on the bare skin of your calves, up and around your knees, causing unintentional goosebumps. He never had to try to be attractive in any way, never failing to do it so effortlessly.

"Are you gonna watch or stare at me the whole time, baby?" He finally spoke up, you hadn't even realized he was talking due to your eyes drinking in how his hands flexed with every little movement he made. Stumbling over your words a bit before catching yourself, "Sorry?"

He snorted at that, "I said, are you gonna watch the show or keep staring," your mouth dried up, any rebuttal you had managed to cut up with completely going blank in your mind, his brows raised in amusement. He uses his index finger to lift your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his, searching your eyes for anything at all.

A quick surge of confidence courses through you, "I prefer this view much better." Sealing the deal with the best 'fuck me' eyes you can muster and a smirk on your full lips. Joe's almost certain his bloods run cold and no amount of heat would soothe the chills along his taut skin.

"You know I love an audience, mama." He's smiling now, pearly, cocky, and mischievous, he knows exactly what he's doing. The hand that was once massaging your calves is inching it's way closer to where your shorts cut off, not quite close enough though.

His eyes are no longer boring into your own creating more tension, but instead reading over the text he'd received typing up a short, bored response and setting his phone screen down. Suddenly he's so interested in Love and Theo's conversation on the big screen in front of you.

You stare at the way his rough thumb plays with the hem of your his t-shirt, silently begging him to pull it over your head and take you right here. He, however, refuses to even look in your direction. How is a girl supposed to just sit there when he's doing shit like that?

"Joey," you whine, leaning into his collarbone, pressing wet kissing on whatever skin you can get to. He does his best attempt at shrugging you off, despite wanting nothing more than to give in and kiss you as hard as ever. That wouldn't be as fun as watching you huff and puff out of his peripheral.

The next thing he knows you've pulled your legs from his lap, choosing to scoot further from him, just out of reach. Now, you're sitting legs crossed and arms folded over your chest, obviously putting on an act so he'll give in, which he always will.