Afatallovesong_ @afatallovesong - Tumblr Blog

Happy New Year you wonderful human! Pleeeease tell me you’re gracing us with more Calum goodness soon?! You’re my favourite writer. Loves

Ask and you shall receive... eventually! This has been a labour of love, I've been writing it on and off since November. Its one of my longest fics so far (I'm sorry) but I really think you'll like it! If there's any mistakes, mind ya business.

Happy birthday to the main man himself

At Your Convenience

A Calum Hood one shot

18+, Smut, NSFW

Word Count: 15,821

You’re fucking tired. It was actually starting to become painful just how tired you were. It hurt to keep your eyes open. It hurt to close them even for a second. They were so insanely dry from tiredness that they’d become sore. Each blink felt like repetitive razor sharp cuts. You’d have done just about anything for a cat nap instead of restocking the shelves. The sun glaring through the window as it started to set didn’t help. You were squinting and covering your line of sight as much as you could, but it still pierced through, targeting you especially, some evil vendetta against you. Its drying your corneas even faster, you really didn’t think it was possible. You manage a not-so-elegant yawn, barely covering the gaping black hole your mouth created. Only four more hours to go. Four more hours of this.

Its crisp and cold out. The early signs of winter were rolling into the city. The leaves were now lacking existence. Fallen branches scattering pavements, cracked under leather docs. Breaths were seen in the air as well as heard. Cheeks and noses were rosy with the bite of a harsh incoming wind. The sun was beginning to set just a little before 6pm. The darkness befalling the streets of California. Calum had often liked a walk at sunset. There was something oddly calming about it. Watching the world carry on as the day was meeting its end. It’s not that he’d even see much of the sun’s disappearance with all the buildings and lights and the busy billboards, but he’d known it was there. He’d known it was leaving him.

He liked walking home in the dark too. The city was so vastly different like that. The stores, the staff that changed over, the people you found wandering through. People were teaming and seemingly bustling with character, not all good, in some circumstances maybe even foul but certainly more outgoing than the daylight crowd. Some were tired and rushed off home from work. Often moving so fast he’d nearly been trampled down into the pavement twice. For the most part, the characters could only be described as friendly, interesting, and easy to watch going by. None could have captivated him quite as much as you though. He’d soon find that out. His friends and family would never describe him as particularly observant, this ought to prove them wrong.

He’d been across the street, a little over 10 feet away maybe when his eyes set upon your figure. It seemed as if the building encasing you hadn’t been there at all. Like you were just stood there on the street corner exposed to winter air as much as he was. The concrete cage above and around you, merely an afterthought. He’d spotted you with an impressively keen eye. He could pin point any detail about you from the style of your hair to the colour of each stripe on your shirt. He may even go as far as to say he’d memorised the order they appeared in. Light blue, dark blue, off white, and black, and repeat and repeat. You weren’t doing anything spectacular to catch his attention in the way that you did. He just knew that you had and now he was stuck watching you on a loop. Stood restocking shelves by the window, a couple of bags in each hand. Despite the averageness of it all, he’d felt the world stand still, calling him inside, calling him to you. The girl in the window.

He went completely unnoticed by you at first. He was thankful for that. You’d had a delivery that morning and spent most of the day painstakingly unboxing and replacing items running low around the store. You were at the last one, placing individual packets of chips on the shelf and the rack beside it. You decided to organise them into rainbow order, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. You had a little song about it, so you knew. You’d been foolish to assume you’d had the whole colour palette. You try to invent a flavour for indigo and violet to rectify that. You could send a strongly worded sales pitch to Lays. For now, though, you were stood atop a step ladder to reach the highest shelf. You weren’t exactly short, but the additional height did come in handy when you couldn’t find the energy to stretch higher than what was natural. Its only as the sun tucks itself away, do you finally brave peering out of the window again for some form of escape.

He catches your eye as you hover there, throwing the cardboard box, now empty, down on the ground behind you. In the space it took you to finish the task and turn back around, he’d crossed the street now looking at you from the corner. He hoped he didn’t look weird. He definitely looked weird. You don’t think much of the exchange at first. But as the seconds escalate you find yourself partaking in a little staring contest. You’d felt that burning sensation in your eyes again after a short while. Just as you go to blink it away, he’d gone. You half wondered if you’d hallucinated his appearance in the first place. Stranger things had happened after a long day after all. Whether real or not, you’d lost the contest. You knew that much. You took your loss and patted down your thighs in defeat.

The door opened with a collection of high pitched tones from your butterfly wind chime above it. It’s just as alarming as it was when you’d first started working there. You thought you would have acclimatised by now but a mixture of tiredness and a slow moving day in store had you beat. So instead, you found yourself jumping out of your skin. You were lucky you didn’t fall. It might have been a more exciting day if you had. You may return to the idea if the day dragged out any longer.

You managed to get back on the ground safely. Your ladders were folded and slotted back against the window where you’d retrieved them from. Your cardboard box now back in your hands to flatten for the recycling bin out back. For now, you’d rest it near the ladders, but you may as well complete half the job while you’re at it to save you doing more than necessary later on. Judging by your exhaustion now, it would be the last thing on your agenda at 10pm. Plus you were never one to leave a customer unsupervised in store. You may have been tired, but you weren’t stupid.

He stepped inside, warmth flooding around him, engulfing him in a large hug. It was a California summer amongst the shelves and aisles. At least that’s how pleasant it had felt. Now that he thought about it, that was a horrible way to describe somewhere that sold fresh food. It’d be a nightmare for food hygiene and longevity. He might have been a touch hasty in his earlier description. It was undeniably cosy though, that was a better fit for it. It was a pleasure to be shielded from the cold.

His eyes easily floated back to you now that he’d entered your space. That was probably just as creepy as it sounded. He didn’t have any sort of plan in mind for entering the store, he never usually did. He’d just made it inside and assumed that that would be enough but of course it wasn’t. It would never have satiated his need to meet you. But he couldn’t just stand in the doorway with his hands in his pockets watching you like some sort of weirdo. Which admittedly, was exactly what he was currently doing. Until he snapped out of it and shuffled himself down the next aisle. He had to approach you somehow though. He’d made it this far; he should follow through.

He could see you through the shelving. There were gaps between produce and items without height, quite similarly to bookshelves in a library. The more he looked the more he could make that comparison. Were these second hand shelves? The shop wasn’t as tiny as it looked from outside either. There were at least 5 short aisles which considering the location, was impressive. The old convenience store seemed no larger than a matchbox from out there. Now he’d stepped inside he’d argue it was more of a healthy apartment, or maybe a doctors waiting room. Yes, those really were the best locations he could think of.

He couldn’t help but notice how the light still caught you as he peered through the confectionary to the place where you stood. The light was illuminating your striped shirt and little blue waistcoat resting in coordination on top. It also bounced off the shiny, scribbled out name badge hooked into the left pocket. He wondered why you hadn’t gotten your name printed. Perhaps you were new here. He’d never seen you in here before. He’d like to think he’d remember you if he had. Not that he was the biggest or most loyal customer to ‘Convenience Corner,’ but he had made it inside once or twice before. It was mostly while drunk, just picking up extra supplies for a party or so but it was enough for him to know. No, he’s certain he’d not seen you before. He ought to find out your name before he forgets to.

“Can I help you?” He jumped at the sound of your voice. It was melodical and cheerful, sweeter than he’d expected. He’d not been prepared to feel even more intrigued by you so soon and in a situation like this no less. You’d caught him staring hadn’t you? He could never show his face in here again if you had. He’d have to leave immediately; God forbid pretend to buy something to make the interaction less awkward. That’s if that was even possible at this point. He wasn’t that sure that it was. His fight or flight had to kick in sooner or later. He looked up from the pack of pistachios his hands seemed to instinctively land on. “Sure, the freezer’s in the back.” He lifts his head to follow your voice with an eyebrow arched. He hadn’t asked for anything in the freezer section. You weren’t speaking to him at all. He’s not sure which was more embarrassing, the fact he was self-centred enough to believe he’d been caught or the fact he was now too aware that he hadn’t been.

“Guess I’m buying the damn pistachios,” he muttered under his breath before grabbing one packet off the shelf, heading in the direction of check out. He was about to make it there too, before he changed his mind, turning back to grab another just to be safe. Surely it was weirder to buy one packet. Or was that just him? He made his way to the counter for good this time. It was adjacent to the entrance as one might expect, easy escape route if things went south. He hovered in place, occasionally stretching onto the tip of his toes and then back down again as he waited patiently for you or another employee to aid him. Though he hoped, deep down in his soul that it would be you.

During his wait he noticed the green chair behind the register. The chair clad in worn leather, looking about as old as the building itself, tucked away neatly. The next items he spotted were the locked cabinets with indication to liquor and tobacco from the warning labels and age restrictions printed on the doors. The little bronze bell atop the counter was next. Then it was the vintage green radio buzzing to the left of it, sputtering out some classical tune he’d never for the life of him be able to recognise. Then it was the cup of what he assumed was coffee, in a branded cardboard cup he also didn’t recognise.

The more he looked the more he found. The walls were patterned with blue and white vertical stripes. The floor shared the same colour scheme with checker tiles. Suddenly the blue uniform was making sense. The décor reminded him of the 80’s, bright, in your face and yet comforting and familiar. His favourite piece of décor in the whole store had to be the painted sign that read ‘please don’t fucking steal.’ He wondered if it worked much as a deterrent or if he was gullible. His second favourite was the collage of confiscated fake id’s with various graffiti vandalising the faces. He laughed at those harder than he thought he would. The Marlboro’s in rainbow order weren’t far behind.

It was cluttered and unorganised, certainly had an eclectic vibe, but he felt strangely at home in his surroundings. He’d liked that. He’d also liked that the price labels on everything were the same shade of green as the chair and radio, some kind of extreme case of colour coordination. Perhaps there was an ongoing discussion about replacing the walls and flooring. It seemed like the favoured shade in the establishment in its current state, was green. It would look pretty green. He really was dull today.

“Hey, sorry I took so long.” You had appeared behind the counter slightly out of breath, hair swept over one shoulder, slipping down your back in an untidy fashion. You were rubbing the back pockets of your blue jeans, looking from left to right and all around for something, he couldn’t quite fathom what. You’d moved so fast he barely registered your arrival there at all. Let alone be able to guess what you were doing there now. You’d startled him in the best way, rushing in to save him just as he feared he was losing grip on reality.

You’d smelt so sweet, next to the dust heavy, 80’s vibe of the shop floor. You had this fresh aroma of apples mixed with mint or something similar, and he liked it. He really liked it. He could have bottled that up. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you scrambled around. He watched you in awe like he’d never seen a retail worker before in his life. You’d seemed so colourful and lively against the drab old signs pinned behind you and it was absolutely mesmerising to him. What was a girl as bright as you doing in a place as drab as this?

Another customer entered with a gust of wind following shortly after. Trickling that breeze across the back of both your necks. Both your eyes floated over to the doorway and back simultaneously. A shiver had shot up his spine when your eyes had met his for the first time, well second actually. He quite enjoyed the feeling of your gaze on him. “Just those?” You asked sweetly. It took most of the energy you had left to lay it on thick for him.

You never enjoyed taking your tiredness out on customers. Not just because it was unprofessional but because you quite liked other humans. You liked them a lot. They were the sole reason you were employed, sure but you also just liked the experience of your fleeting moments with the rest of the human race. You didn’t need to know their life stories. You didn’t need to chit chat and ask about their day because it was simply polite to do so. Any conversation carried between you and the passers-by, the window shoppers, and the regulars, was a part of your day that you enjoyed and often craved. Somewhere, not so deep down, very clearly found instead, you hoped this new customer would allow you more than just a fleeting moment.

You eyed him with large, soft eyes. A genuine glimmer of happiness was lit within them. Despite the bags beneath them which made his heart ache for you, he thought you had the prettiest eyes he’d seen. So much so that it took him a while to return to you, remembering exactly where he was. Buying something. He watched you peering down to the items he’d handed over, fascinated by literally anything that you did as if it were his first day on earth. And for the love of God, how could someone so tired be so devastatingly beautiful?

“Uh, yeah, that’s it.” He really took over a minute to pause and then came out with that. Pathetic. He’d kick himself for his lack of conversational skills later. For now, he just glanced down to your name tag with curiosity but not enough guts to back it up. You caught him, addressing it immediately. It seemed you were paying just as much attention to him as he was to you. Funny he hadn’t noticed it, since he clearly saw everything else that you did.

“Printing error, would you believe it?” He shook his head, he’s not sure why. “You’d think I wouldn’t need one at all, owning the place.” He was quite impressed by that; he hadn’t shown it as well as he’d have liked to, but he was. He wouldn’t have guessed it. You started shuffling around, just like before. Your eyes dart beneath the counter, then above, to the side, even to the ground. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen some keys on a lanyard?” You eye him hopefully, anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip. Stay strong Calum. You rushed a hand through your hair as your panic set in. He had a feeling this wasn’t the first time you’d lost them.

Ever the hero, he glanced around to where you were stood before. He remembered your position exactly. He might have been a serial killer. He’d have to book himself a therapy session later that evening. These were early signs for sure. There kicked beneath the bottom shelf, a slither of silver caught his eye. Before you could clear the counter yourself, he’d already grabbed them, wrapping the sunflower printed material around his hand.

The smile you greeted him with was similar to that of a damsel who’d been delivered from distress. He knew he wasn’t worthy of such praise, but he so enjoyed the sight of it as it was presented to him. “Thank you.” You gestured a prayer as you said it, bringing the keys to your chest, your breasts squishing together significantly. He wished he hadn’t noticed that. “I swear that’s the 6th time I’ve done that.” You sink the key into the cash register, springing it to life, opening the drawer beneath it.

“Just today?” He dug at you, earning a blush, he felt blessed to have seen it let alone to be the one to cause it. “Well, that’s 2.75 then.” You said happily, hands flattening atop the wooden countertop as if you were smoothing out a piece of fabric. He hands money over the with a “keep the change” and a smile that flashed his perfect pearly whites. You placed the 5 he gave you in the cash register, eyeing him sceptically as did so. “See you around big spender.” His breath escaped him at the nickname, the possibility of seeing you again too. That was the most fun either of you had, had all day.

-

“I should give you a job since you’re in here so often.” He doesn’t fight the smile that braces his face when he enters the place this time. “Then you’d have to finally tell me your name.” He knows he’s got you there. “On second thoughts, you’re my best customer and you’re so, so welcome here any time honestly.” You slam your magazine down on the counter for emphasis, resting your face in both your palms, elbows on the wood. “Oh yeah? Don’t get a lot of pistachio fiends?” He wanted to be embarrassed; he had no legs to stand on. He’d been coming in every Thursday for the past 5 weeks, buying a pack of pistachios each and every time. His car was just about overflowing with them at this point. The shells, bags, full pistachios he couldn’t quite toss and catch in his mouth in less than a minute. It was an addiction to most, you included.

“What brings you in today?” You held your hand out to stop him answering you, only he never began to speak in the first place. He was proud to say he was used to you doing that. “Let me guess.” He flipped you off before responding light heartedly. “Maybe I’m just checking in to see how your name tag is coming along.” You thought for a moment before responding. “You know, it’s taking a whole lot longer than I thought, guess labels aren’t on trend right now.” The sarcasm was dripping. He nodded as he headed down the aisle, fighting heart palpitations as he went. He didn’t have to get the same thing. There was no reason to now. He wasn’t in a hurry. He wasn’t panicking only grabbing the first thing he found. Yet, he still grabbed a bag like clockwork as if it would ever be impressive to you.

“I never thought anyone liked pistachios.” He jumped about 3 feet as you appeared beside him. This was the closest you’d ever gotten to him. “Jesus fucking Christ.” You sniggered a laugh at his expense, thoroughly. “No, that’s not my name but it’s a good guess.” You patted him lightly on the shoulder. He felt like he’d been shocked by electricity. “As I was saying, scaredy cat, I thought it was just something adults lied about enjoying to seem more mature or something.” Every bone in his body had him wanting to agree with you. They tasted like dog shit, but he couldn’t resist them.

“Rude of you to give me another nickname without so much as a whiff to your own name.” He raises you. You didn’t think he had it in him. “Would it please you if I let you provide me with a nickname?” Its patronising as fuck but he’d already been glad to accept your offer regardless. “You sure you’re ready for that?” You shrugged it off, there was no way he’d think of one on the spot. He was so painfully awkward and flustered around you at all times, the tiny burst of wit he pushed out a few seconds ago was probably all he had left this week. You could let him do his worst with full confidence. Knowing he’d never conjure one good enough to knock you down.

“Stripe.” Your eyes widened to the point where he feared they might pop out of your skull. “Fucking Stripe?” You half yelled, repeating the word far too many times in disbelief. He was fully aware of how awful it was, really, he fucking knew. But your reaction made it all the more worth it. “I’ve never seen you in anything other than a stripey top and that blue fucking waistcoat, it was the best I could do.” If that was the best, you’d hate to see his worst. “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” You then rubbed his back so platonically he thought he might scream.

“But uh, they’re great yeah, yummy.” He shook his head at his own awkwardness. “Yeah, must be, you’re the only reason we replaced the stock you know.” You pointed at the tiny marking slammed on the shelf just below the item up for debate. An “out of stock” label was scrawled out messily in black marker. “Shit really?” There was that laugh again. He could record that and sell it as a cure for depression, it was the happiest sound he’d ever heard. You could cure all ailments with a laugh as cute and dorky as yours.

“Nope, but it did make you panic for a second huh?” You were facing him, arms behind your back, chest pushed out proudly as you smiled at your own mischievousness. You tended to do that a lot. You weren’t ever aware of the way your breasts pushed forwards like an offer he couldn’t refuse. But he had so hoped that he was right in assuming it was accidental. Although, if that was just how sexy you were even without trying, he could only melt at the thought of a real attempt. Pull yourself together man, you’re not 14, not every pair of tits has to destroy you. Even if yours were perfect. “Do I really come in here that much?” He's white knuckling his way through that question until you finally relax your shoulders, the tension also leaving his own.

“Yeah you do.” You said it with sympathy and a kindness as if that was the making of an intervention. “I could lie.” You offered. He thought about it. Then he thought about the way he could recognise every single note your wind charm had been able to make. The way he knew the floor creaked in the centre of every aisle but never the edges. How the lights only flickered above the freezer section and buzzed like a swarm of bees when they did. How there’s always an excess of toilet roll stacked the near the door because you’d accidentally ordered too much. How you’d tripped over it most days despite you being the only reason it was there. How you’d told him you’d done it only once, but he knew for a fact it was 5 times just in his presence because he laughed every single time. Yeah, he might come here a little too often.

“Would you please lie?” His face heated in several different shades of red, one after the other coordinating with your striped shirt of the day. A blush brown, red, and orange. You were yet to repeat an outfit. The horizontal stripe was the same, but the colour was not. That wasn’t really saying much in the grand scheme of things. He had only met you 5 times so far. But 5 different stripey tops was still arguably hard to come by. “You just really love your nuts.” You dragged out your s.’ He hit his head on the shelf before him with a thud. “That’s even worse.” He mumbles while continuing his downward trajectory into self-loathing.

“Yeah, maybe you should go with your dignity still intact.” You nodded, brushing off laughter. “You’re right. Though I think that would require having any in the first place.” He made a lot of jokes at his own expense, more so than anyone else you’d ever met. You hoped he didn’t really feel like that about himself. “Yeah, no I was lying to make you feel better.” You nodded repeatedly. “Didn’t really try it before, now I did. I don’t really like it.” You shrugged. He smirked.

“So, same time tomorrow?” He did the same old thing with his feet, standing on his toes, slotting back down, his tell-tale sign that he was waiting for something. “Maybe.” He left it open for interpretation. You leaned in close, your face not far from his, like the counter had disappeared altogether. “Oh, a maybe huh, that’s how we’re playing this now?” You’re so close to him he can now identify the exact kind of mint you carried on your breath. It wasn’t peppermint like he’d assumed at first. It was spearmint. You were spearmint and spiced apple rolled into one. It should never have worked but on you, it was perfection.

“Can’t bear to see me twice in one week Cal?” He thought he might combust as you shortened his name. It took every ounce of energy he had left not to melt at your feet. “I am getting too predictable, do need to keep it fresh. Can’t have you sitting there all day just expecting me to arrive.” He was proud of himself for keeping up. There may be hope for him yet. “Oh, but it’s such a crucial part of my existence.” Your hand slid across countertop, and he thought he imagined it even as his own lifted involuntarily, aiming to meet it.

“Very funny. So witty.” He was reduced to two word sentences and sarcasm, brilliant. “I know, I know, keep going, talk dirty to me.” You were definitely a dork; you both knew it. One of you found it endearing. Your hand touched his, he was almost certain it wasn’t an accident by now. His heart still didn’t believe him. “I will see you, eventually.” Your fingers pried his open, hands joining, fingers bumping knuckles, fumbling around in a beautiful whirl. He didn’t know when your relationship got to the point where you’d been able to touch like this. He also didn’t know what it meant. He just knew he enjoyed it, and you could touch him wherever you desired.

“Eventually?” You say it slowly, breathing it out to see if he’d like it. His eyes couldn’t avoid your glittery lip gloss any longer. It was all he’d thought about for the last 45 seconds since he’d noticed it. He wished he never noticed it. Now he can’t do anything but notice it. He also thought about the possibility of wearing it himself. Not because he wanted to go out and buy the same one but because he so desperate to feel your kiss, he wouldn’t mind the transfer. Those thoughts weren’t helping anyone.

“Mmhmm, sometime, somewhere.” Did his voice go up an octave? “Probably here.” You corrected him, thumb smoothing over his. “Definitely here.” He confirmed, he’d not taken a new breath since you’d touched him, and he might have started going purple because of it. “But sometime.” You poked with a smirk. “Exactly.” He said inching closer. As much as you liked it, you panicked. You released his hand in a flash and stepped back, legs knocking into the chair behind the counter. He’s gutted to lose your touch but chooses not to hold it against you. You must have had your reasons.

You pretended it didn’t make you want to yell out every curse word under the sun under the scrutiny of his stare. The way your chair dug into your calves was dire. You cut your flirtation short and hoped that masked it adequately enough. It didn’t. “Get out of my store.” You bossed him around with a smirk. He felt relieved by it. At least he hadn’t fucked anything up. You smiled away at him as he did as he was told. Holding it right until he’d disappeared, not only from the shop, but the view of the exterior too. You sank into your chair safely this time and let out a deep sigh. Was it hot in here or was it just you?

-

“I get off at 10.” You rush, bringing your hands back down to your sides. You didn’t smile, you didn’t wave, you didn’t breathe. You just blurted it out. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards but didn’t react more than that. “You do?” He isn’t really sure what to say, he never is. He wants to ask if you mean what he thinks you mean, and what he thinks you mean is that you’d like to see him when you finish. He’s not sure if he has the courage to do something about it. He still needed to work on communication, if you had taught him anything, it’s that his verbal skills were lacking.

“I get off at 10 and I think you should come hang out.” Your spare hand floated to your hip; you hoped it appeared as casual as you intended it to. But truth be told your grasp on it was nothing close to gentle. The silence growing between you was painful. “I’ll see you then.” He said, just as quietly, just as unsure.

“Fuck, you will?” You stepped in closer to him, absolutely relieved. He reached out to you; you’re attempting the same. “I uh, yeah.” This is the only time you’ve been tongue tied around him and you’re not enjoying a single second of it. “Now please leave before I have a meltdown over this.” He didn’t budge. He still wanted to touch you, hold your hand, your hip, your scissors that you were previously using to cut open packaging, anything he could. “Seriously oh my God.” You’re laughing but you need it, you wouldn’t think straight again until he left. “I’m gone, I’m going, I’ll see you at 10.” Fuck yeah you will.

-

“What can I help you with today?” You asked as softly as you always did. You leant right over the counter already cutting the distance. It was 10:02pm. There was no more wasting time. He started to lean in a little too. You wet your lip in anticipation. The way you often did when you saw him. Because you couldn’t keep it together for even a minute, needed that sensation across your lip to prevent you from finding another. Under the watchful gaze of those fucking browneyes, you’re helpless. “I actually panicked when you didn’t come in at 6 today.” Distracting yourself with conversation was something you’d always done; may it help you now.

“I didn’t think you’d miss me too much.” He was happy you did. He was selfishly ecstatic if he was being completely honest. “Well, I did.” He nodded at the information, letting it sink in. He also let it go straight to his head. It wasn’t his fault. When a girl like you says she misses you, you’re living the fucking dream as far as he was concerned. He leaned in, elbows nudging yours on the counter, a parallel to a couple of weeks back when you’d held hands in the very same spot for the first time.

It felt much more natural this time. Hands gravitating towards each other without a care in the world. Nothing but the brushing of fingertips against knuckles and blushes being hidden with large smiles. You supposed without the worry of any other customers entering the store, you could finally relax into this. You weren’t being unprofessional by seeing to your urges. It felt so incredibly good. You’d like it like this more often. Probably not in this exact location. You think you’d seen enough of the inside of this place for a lifetime.

“I can tell you what I’m not here for.” You nodded along intrigued. “Fucking pistachios.” You snorted a pretty hearty laugh. “I knew you didn’t like them.” You raised your voice accusingly. He was shaking his head in disagreement but the way he laughed wasn’t fooling you. “No one likes them that much I don’t care who you are.” You’re determined to receive his admittance. He’s gone beet red in the face, willing to pull his beanie down over it to save him further humiliation. That should have been enough for you, it wasn’t. You had to hear it.

He’s shaking your hands in his to grab your attention back and your heart is just bursting at the action. You wouldn’t mind holding his hands all day. “No, I do like them, I do, stop shaking your head, I do. Just yeah, not that much, I don’t know what I was doing.” He’s looking at your hands as a source of comfort, fiddling with them while he reflected on his past decisions regretfully. “Think I just really wanted to impress you, clearly did that. Shows I’m committed though right?” He lets one of your hands slip free. You lift it into the air and draw an invisible tick. “Oh yeah, honestly there’s nothing sexier than getting 2.75 from a hot stranger every week, ticking that right off my bucket list. And yes I like your level of commitment, I will consider it heavily in your application.”

His brows arch. “Hot stranger huh?” You’re not surprised he’d only listened to the part with the compliment; you’d be the same. “You’re kind of hot I guess.” It was your turn to blush, coyly looking anywhere but at him as if you’d save yourself that way. It didn’t stop him looking at you like you thought it might. He was still peering down at you, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, your hair falling down into your face like curtains ready to close on him. He didn’t want to be closed out. He needed more access in fact. He just needed to be subtle about it as not to spook you, or him for that matter.

He was careful when he pulled his left hand from yours. It was so cautious and polite you didn’t even miss it when it was gone. He just reached forward, touching you elsewhere. Tucking his thumb beneath your chin, lifting your face so you’re back looking at him. He could look at you for hours. You’re like a piece of art that had come alive, and he needed to appreciate you for that. He was equally as pretty, his eyes big and beautiful, with a softness you wanted surrounding in. You wouldn’t ever get used to a stare like his.

You combed some of your hair behind your ears to give him a better look at you. You’re not sure why but you felt it was important for him to see you like this. With more vulnerability. He may have seen you every week, but your time was so fleeting. You’d been working a million miles a minute. Your head was often fuzzy. Not to mention your hair was a constant tangled mess. You rarely wore makeup either, sweat too much stocking shelves which you did pretty much every single Thursday, his day. It was absolutely crucial to you now, for him to see you and really seeyou.

Not you that wore the uniform. Not you that lived and breathed this shop or this job. Not you that made witty remarks about other customers because that was your only form of entertainment during a shift. You needed him to see you in a way that he couldn’t associate you with this place. You wanted him to like you separately. You had other interests. You had other clothes. You had a whole other personality. If you let him look at you like this, perhaps he just might find it.

“I might be wrong.” His voice had gone unintentionally gravely allowing his accent to shine through. “But I think you might like to kiss me.” He says it barely above a whisper, but you heard it in the deepest parts of you. You tried your best to remain composed as he’d read your mind exactly. All these weeks of flirting with no result, building and building tension with no real end game in sight. But now, finally, there was opportunity. “It’ll cost ya.” You whispered. He grinned back down at you affectionately; he hadn’t moved an inch yet. “I’ll tip you generously” he goes to say more but you’d already shot forward. Everything he could possibly have said was now well and truly out of the window, gone and completely forgotten. You had erased his mind and it felt wonderful.

“You’ve been on my mind for fucking weeks you know that.” He’s taken aback, from the kiss, your hand clutching his, your confession. He was flattered to say the least. “I watch the damn clock every day, even though I know you only come in on Thursdays.” You retreated your hands away from him and he’d have been offended by it if he weren’t still pining for your lips back on his. He could settle for hearing your truth first. He was a patient man when it came to you. “Why do you only come in on Thursdays?” He wonders if you were actually asking or not and then he realises it’s just a stepping stone in your monologue, so he kept it zipped and watched you with a bemused smile.

“I was scared, did I tell you I was scared? Thought I’d never see you again Calum, I mean fuck I was about to mark down pistachios to 1 cent if it would bring you back in here, what the fuck were you playing at?” He’d say he was shocked at the way you’d overreacted, but he’d been wracking his brain just as heavily. The entire day, he watched the time flying by, his leg tapping, his riffs never sounding right, his vocals never hitting the right note, his lyrics not carrying into verses with fluidity and synchronicity, every second he spent away from this God damn store was an additional second of insanity he couldn’t bear.

“Promise I’ll never ditch you again.” You tugged him in close. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep Calum.” You breathed out grabbing hold of the collar on his fleece. “I would never do such a thing.” He tipped his head down at you, thumbs reaching out to stroke adoringly over your cheeks, your aggression dissolved as quickly as it came. “Shit, kissing you is like, I can’t even think of a word for it.”

“That’s awfully romantic, wow Calum.” You said between kisses. “Shut up.” He bit back. “Trying to but you keep pulling your lips away.” You’re mumbling into his mouth. “Feels weird kissing here, like some other customer is gonna pop outta nowhere.” You rolled your eyes at the mention of it, biggest turn off of the century. “Would you like me to put the shutters down so you can feel safer hmm?” He smirked down at you. “That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Swoon.

His hands squeezed where he now held your hips fondly. His eyes were shining, even in the dim light. His brows were furrowed with concern, you couldn’t be sure what for. There were so many things either of you could have been thinking at that moment. You were checking his deep eyes for signs of distress or regret, a hint of regret would certainly destroy you now you’d gotten to this stage, but you’d still wished to know if he was okay with all of this. “Are you okay?” You weren’t sure why you said it so quietly. If anyone were to break from a loud and startling voice, it would have been you more so than him.

He nodded his head into the palm of your hand. You’re heart fluttered but you still wondered. “Promise me?” He nodded again but it wasn’t enough truth for you. “Need to hear it.” You nudged. “I’m more than fine.” It sounded calmer than either of you had expected. You were eyeing him with your lips tucked neatly between your teeth and he swore he’d lay down his life to feel you do that to him instead. “Gonna kiss you now.” You said it as if it was the first ever time. It was at least the third, maybe fourth or fifth but felt just as fresh. Somehow more important than the others. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was planned and it was delicate, and it had mattered.

He leaned into your mouth; plush lips gently caressed yours. You knew he was more eager than he let on, felt it in the way he clutched at your belt loops like he himself was the one to hold up your jeans instead. “You don’t have to be so gentle.” You muttered through fluttered lashes. “Wanna treat you like you deserve.” You didn’t expect such a response, never being taken care of before. You were glad to receive it. “Kiss me sweetly later, I want the good stuff.” His lips didn’t miss the opportunity to send a smirk your way before he swooped in, arms wrapping around your middle, lips plummeting down onto yours. A moan teared from your throat sending his stomach churning and flipping with delight.

It’s a tender kiss still, even if he weighed down heavy on your lips. His cushiony mouth took the fall. Your arms were thrown messily around his shoulders, finding a home there, your fingers combing the hair at the base of his neck. He gave you his tongue, offering it like a gift. He wrapped it in your lips, sliding between them, teasing your own tongue with it. There it is, your signature scent, apple and mint, a taste so distinctively yours. He tasted of tobacco and coca cola, and you hadn’t a single complaint about it. You’d happily keep that recipe locked in your mind to associate him with forever. He retracted his lips and you found yourself chasing him, rising onto the tips of your toes, nearly toppling the both of you over in the process. He grinned wide from ear to ear, and you just stood there with your eyes big, gawping at him like a goldfish.

“You might be the sweetest thing I ever tasted.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, caressing your heated cheek with a precise and carefully crafted technique. “Can’t really trust your tastebuds though.” He would never live down them pistachios. “I’m gonna make you forget all about that.” You knew he wasn’t really embarrassed about it, but if he really wanted to offer a mind altering experience, you wouldn’t dare decline. “Is that right?”

“There’s only one room in this entire building without security cameras you know.” It’s far too detailed to be a hint but you hope he took it like that anyway. “What would we need that for?” He pecked you over and over, your body squirmed in is grip. “I think you know what.” He did, he loved idea of it too, it was unique and adventurous and sure maybe there wasn’t much risk of getting caught but that didn’t make the location any less scandalous and out of the ordinary. Calum needed you somewhere private around yesterday. “Care to enlighten me?” He saw the cogs turning and ticking away in your pretty little head. He had a rough idea of where you’d take him, but it didn’t make it any less fun to ask. He needed to hear you say it.

“How sexy is the idea of making out in the stockroom?” You just came out and said it. “How sturdy are the shelves?” You shoved him. “Shut up.” He snickered. “Keep that up and you’ll be banned for life Mr.” He leaned down to kiss that thought from your mind. “You know I can’t survive without this place, it’s just so- “ he paused purposefully, he knew exactly the words he needed but chose not to speak them, “convenient?” you finished for him, to which he nodded along happily. “Convenience corner where all your needs are at your convenience.” You cheerfully recited your slogan, it was adorable to him, nostalgic and cringey to you.

“What else in here is at my convenience?” He pushed the boat out a little. “What would you like?” You played along too, enjoying the way his blush didn’t end with his cheeks but fell down towards his neck as well. “To speak to the manager of this establishment.” You wanted to roll your eyes so badly, but he was just too charming to ridicule. “Think she’s a little busy right now, you’ll have to come back later.” You pulled him back down to kiss you and he relaxed into you within an instant. “Mm, I’d like to ask her something.” He kissed you again. “Oh yeah?” He took a little bit longer to respond that time, your tongue sinking into his mouth, making it pretty difficult for him. “Want her to check something in the back for you?” You encouraged. He nodded down at you eagerly. “Right this way sir.”

You grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket, tugging his body close to you. He’s about to trip and fall right into your arms for the remainder of the evening but you had other plans. You were leading him elsewhere. In reality, you hadn’t even needed to touch him, he was like a lost puppy in unfamiliar surroundings, only latching onto the one figure he knew, he’d have followed you anywhere. He was whipped. He stumbled along in your path, you may have been short, but you were awfully fast. His vans scuffed across the tiles, squeaking as he walked. It was a step up from his docs but just as irritating. If you weren’t so set on becoming a cliché snogging in the back room, you’d curse him for it. Nevertheless, you lead him to the door just right of the freezer section, you weaved through a sharp right hand turn and kicked open the stockroom door. He wasn’t sure what to expect from it. He’d never really had the need for a job anywhere like this. He didn’t know the ins and outs of what a stockroom could provide. The answer being not a fat lot.

There’s towers of shelves in 3 aisles. Boxes both filled and emptied are spaced out throughout the room. Its colder back here than it was in the main section of the store. It made sense when storing products and trying to preserve them, but it was awfully uninviting. “So, this is kinda the break room too.” You let out. He felt nothing but sympathy for you. There was barely enough room for the 2 of you, let alone any other employees coming and going. He followed you through the aisles toward the back door. Hanging above was the inevitable gleaming green exit sign that glowed more than it should have, casting a faint green light over that portion of the room. His eyes then followed you, stepping on without him, gesturing to a green leather couch he was surprised he hadn’t clocked yet.

“You want a beer or something?” You awkwardly fiddle with a stray, loose strand on your jeans. He shook his head slowly, stepping closer to you. Your legs were already open to straddle the arm of the couch making it easy for him to find himself between them, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You let your arms encase his waist, pushing you face into the fleece he was adorning. Your hair smelt so nice he had to force himself not to take a deep inhale of its fragrance. It wasn’t the weirdest thought that had ever occurred to him in your presence but that just made it worse.

“You’re like a fuckin siren or something.” He blurted out. He expected the way you pulled back, biting your tongue as an attempt not to snigger at him for his comment. “You know what I mean.” He barely defended himself. He started to talk with his hands, and you huffed at the lack of his touch while he did it. “You drag me in here every week. You’re always on my mind. I literally don’t even know your name yet I’m falling over myself trying to be here. I’m back in here like clockwork.” You really ought to tell him, put him out of his misery once and for all.

“It’s Y/n.” You said gently. You should have said more after he’d rambled on like that, but you were struggling on what you could say. You were far worse for expressing your feelings than he was and that was a great feat. “Y/n.” He repeated it a few times, testing it out, deciding he quite liked the sound of it in his mouth. “Yup, not a siren, just Y/n.” You giggled, like a schoolgirl you actually giggled. “Really stepping up our relationship here Cal, what’s next you want my last name too?”

He was already letting his hands cup your chin, deciding he’d been lacking your intoxicating lips for far too long. “I have a couple of ideas in mind stripe.” Before you could protest the foul nickname his lips were back against yours. They slot against your own so neatly you’d argue they were a piece to your puzzle, finally settling into place. You moaned against the tongue swiping across your bottom lip and his knees nearly buckled under the heat of it. “When you moan like that pretty girl,” he can only pull back for a second or two, “makes me weak.” You’re pushing him back; he stumbled about as gracefully as you could imagine in a moment like that, little to 0%. “I like you weak.” You toy with him, stepping towards him, sparking him to back his way up against a shelf.

The wood creaked under the force of him. It dug deep into his spine, but you hadn’t given him a moment to complain before you tangled yourselves together again. “I think your nicknames are getting better.” You praised, looking up at him through your long, curled lashes. The sight had him thinking sinfully. You also took the time to admire him. His curls were messy, framing his face in every which way beneath the pressure of his woolly hat. You needed to see his hair without that god damn beanie on or you might explode. You tugged it off him slowly, grateful he didn’t object. He only squinted at you now that he was aware of just how wild his curls had actually become. They’d sprung out in every direction, you weren’t prepared for the volume, not that you’d even minded. “Fuck.” You sighed. He wished he knew what the context was behind that hot little expression of yours. “I love your hair.” Your eyes were so focused on it as you tangled your fingers briefly, catching a couple of curls accidentally. He let out a puff of air as you caught him like that. “Shit, sorry, couldn’t resist.” He shook the comment away, he knew he was in for it with you.

“So, you’ve lured me back here, now what will you do?” You felt his eyes watching you expectantly, you tried to remain as calm as you could in responding but his gaze burning into you had you tripping over every word before they even threatened to come out. “Have my filthy way with you.” You were dripping with a false confidence; one you hoped he didn’t catch onto. He didn’t. He was heavily convinced you were the filthy minx he’d been dreaming about none stop since he first saw you across the road. Might as well live up to those expectations somehow.

His hands were no longer soft and sweet, barely caressing your frame. His fingers were digging into the flesh of your hips, scooting your body forward till you lined up just right with him, just enough to make him pant with those peachy plush lips. Your own fingertips were buried in the curls at the nape of his neck, and he urged you to tug them in his mind. The guttural moan that escaped him when you finally did it, had you dying to hear it again and again. “Jeez take me to dinner first.” You managed before he’s tucking your bottom lip between his own teeth. “I think you owe me more than one.” You continued in a sudden array of nerves he wasn’t quite used to you having. “Do you ever run out of things to say?” That was his polite and desperate way of asking you to shut the fuck up. You might have done it too.

His hand slipped dangerously onto your throat, light pressure building when he introduced you to the idea of his hand sitting there, capturing you. “I could, but I’d rather not.” He had to smile proudly when you pouted up at him, nails digging into his shoulders when he blocked your airways, little gasps the only sound running from your delicious, fuchsia stained mouth. He leaned in close to your ear, lips brushing the lobe, your eyes were sent rolling back. He’d found one of your weaknesses and you’d only just begun. “Think you should try and stay quiet for a little while.” As much as you loathed being the quiet, obedient woman, if he asked you to jump off a bridge, you were certain you’d do it.

His fingertips pulled back and you surged forwards, lips crashing into his own. You whined a breathless moan into his lips, and he still wasn’t happy with the amount of fuss you were making for him but if you rocked into him the way that you were for much longer, he’d be the one struggling with the silence. As if you were reading his mind, always one step ahead of the game. You were tugging at the green, oversized fleece you’d hoped he’d worn for you.

It hurt to be away from his lips even if it were to rid himself of the many layers that concealed him away from you. “Come on now stripe, wanna see what’s under them.” You wanted to send a snarky comment his way, but you were so breathless at the vision of him stood there without a shirt on and in your fucking stock room no less. “Fucking hell.” Your hands were forgetting every instruction he’d given you. You had a childlike curiosity that needed fulfilment, you’d always wandered about his tattoos. Sometimes for days at a time. Not always at the most convenient of times either, you just couldn’t help yourself. When they graced the back of his hands like that it was only natural to consider how they’d look in situations like- well situations like this one.

“I’ll give you a tattoo tour later.” His forehead was fitted against yours, fingers combing through your hair as his lips ghosted over yours. You closed the gap momentarily, enjoying him before his other hand flushed across your stomach beneath your shirt. Your stomach flipped at the contact. His hands edged over the pudgy skin that was a source of anxiety for you, it always had been. You’d wondered how much he’d actually like you underneath those stripes. “Can I get this off you?” He was trying to connect with you, sensing your hesitation. “You don’t have to.” He promised. “Just really want to see you.” You appreciated his honesty and his kind encouragement. You lifted your top yourself, grateful you couldn’t see his face when it was pulled over your head revealing your upper half to him. The strong urge to suck in a breath hit you like a freight train.

He nearly growled at the sight of your breasts spilling over the cups of your bra. He’d always agreed with women when they said they hated the claustrophobic item of clothing. But seeing your boobs bunched up like that, toppling out of them, he thought he might like bras for the first time in his life. You avoided his gaze. Even going as far as to closing your eyes to avoid the scrutiny. It doesn’t come. His lips were on you so fast, he doesn’t even bother unclipping the thing. He yanked down the cups, bending down at the knees, stuffing your nipples into his mouth like a starved man. You choked out a cry when his teeth tugged at the hardening skin of your nipple. His hips bucked helplessly into yours while he continued his assault. Any fear you’d had was now out of sight and out of mind because the boy before you didn’t care if you were fat or thin, you were his pretty, witty, annoying girl and he wanted to love on every part of you that you’d let him get near which was honestly, all of you.

“Jesus Calum, leave some for the rest of us.” His eyes opened, blinking a couple times as he pulled away, a trail of spit formed between you, connecting his lips to your breast. His cheeks flushed crimson, lips about the same shade, pupils blown out entirely. He was love drunk and as dazed as ever. He caught your eye like the very first time, an accidental staring contest forming from a glance he just could not stop taking. You’d been more than willing to participate this time around.

“Best tits I’ve ever fucking tasted.” You stroked under his chin; he leaned into your palm as you offered him the much appreciated affection. “Anyone would think they’re the first.” Had he really gone that nuts? (Pardon the pun). “Weeks’ worth of pining make you go a little crazy?” He furrowed his brows at the mock hidden poorly in your question. “Wait, wait, wait, you knew?” He was dumfounded. “That you were buying pistachios left right and centre to keep coming back in here?” He nodded along like he was amazed you’d caught on. As if he had even a shred of subtlety. “Doesn’t take much genius.” You tapped your temple symbolically. “So, this whole time you let me buy you out of stock, and didn’t say a damn thing?” You gave him your brightest smile. “You’re so cute when you think you’re undetectable.” Your finger prodded his cheek and he huffed against it.

“I didn’t know you wanted to pound me in the break room or anything, but I caught onto the crush pretty early on.” He was truly mortified. He may have gotten the girl, even had you whining for him tonight, but his pride was certainly damaged. “And you-“ he asked before he wondered if he even wanted to know the answer. “Was hooked day 4 when you tripped on your way in.” He leaned back, eyes closing, hands coming to cover his face, sadly leaving your body. You’re giggling before him, and it feels incredible to witness the joy of hearing it, but his embarrassment was a much stronger sensation.

“It was very cute how you then proceeded to shuffle every step just in case you did it again, even if your damn docs left track marks across my floors.” He was sheepish about that part; he’d find a way to apologise for it at some stage. He’d clean it with a toothbrush if he had to. “This might be super unprofessional of me,” you said as if your entire relationship thus far had been anywhere near adhering to your code of conduct working here. “But the part apart pounding the in the breakroom-“ he was already cutting you off “yes fucking please.” His lips were on yours like they’d never left. Arms wrapped round you so tight you could scarcely breathe. Hadn’t even wanted to.

“You know, I was hoping you weren’t all talk,” he beamed with pride, taking in the sight of your bite swollen lips and chest heaving with ragged breaths, his trail of saliva still glistening across your breasts. He placed a hand on either side of your hips, his head dropped to mouth hungrily at your neck while he’d fastened you in place, a sort of retaliation for your comment just before. Sure, you could talk but he could take action. He could mark a sweet and tender bruise into your collarbone to prove just how much he could back up those words.

“Been wanting to mark you up since we met,” he sighed deeply into the hollow of your throat, you can feel the air leaving your lungs, “what if I’d been wanting that just as bad?” You responded, he didn’t even mind that you did, he may not have been able to shut you up completely but the hint of whining and tiny noises just beneath each word was certainly a victory for him. He had been the only cause. “Oh yeah?” His words vibrates as he dragged his lips across your neck. “What else have you been wanting pretty girl?”

You leave him with nothing for a few seconds. Just weighing up the options in your head. There wasn’t much that you didn’t want him to do. You’d allow just about anything at this point. The lack of an answer was slowly destroying him. He could go ahead and try something he’d wanted but for him, sex wasn’t about that. He needed to tend to your needs. He needed to make you feel good. “Come on baby, don’t hold out on me now.” It’s impatient and desperate and it had you gripping onto him for dear life, a very clear image flashed into your mind of just what you’d wanted from him.

“Your fingers. I need your fingers.” He was already letting his hands slip down your bare tummy before sentence could dare meet its end. Just as quickly as those fingers began drifting, he was retreating. Hands fluttering in the opposite direction, much to your dismay. You barely pout before he’s focusing his gaze on you. He has half the mind to scold your battiness but he’s just so keen to give you what you need, he couldn’t deprive you, not when you looked so sweet. “Do me a favour real quick pretty girl,” you needed a second to recover from the pet name, “suck my finger real slow for me.” You needed several hundred to recover from that. “That’s it, good girl.” It’s extremely condescending and under any other circumstances, you’d be sure to give him a piece of your mind, but this wasn’t a casual scenario. The roles were well and truly reversed and you were throbbing from the realisation that he just might be as fucked up as you were in the bedroom.

“Never been this quiet for me.” You hum sweetly around the second finger he’s pushing into your mouth. You do as you’re told initially, just sucking the digits plainly. Its only when you notice the jagged breaths he’s taking while watching you, that you decide to show off. Just sweet little licks, swirling your tongue around the tips of his rough fingers, admiring the salty taste of his skin across your tongue. When you take him to the knuckle you know he’s fighting all the restraint he has not to ram his fingers right down your throat. “I wish that was my dick so fucking bad.”

Although you don’t expect the blunt and brazen confession, you’re not at all alarmed at the content of it. You knew the tricks to captivate your audience. It was no secret that the two of you would never be anywhere close to each other’s first time but that hadn’t taken any of the excitement and uncertainty away that kept the air heavy with tension. You could never have anticipated just how successful your performance would be with him. “Gotta give me my fingers back now.”

He makes no effort to retract them from the vice grip of your lips despite the contrasting command and his genuine eagerness to hurry this along. “Come on.” He’s grunting, tapping his feet with urgency. You released them with a wet pop that near echoes throughout the room. He’s sliding his now glistening fingers, back down between you both. He’d not noticed, too distracted by your tongue no doubt, you’d already made quick work of unbuttoning your jeans and pushing them down along with your underwear. All he had to do was slip a finger or two daringly over your pussy. A slow stroke through the soft, sweet heaven. It was so inviting, so pretty. He’d not needed to see it at all to know it was perfect. Not in the sense that it was the most attractive or most neat in terms of aesthetic but simply because it was yours, and he wouldn’t dare dream of a better haven than the little mountain peak between the valley of your thighs.

You both let out a rushed sigh. He captured your lips as they invite him to meet. His fingers are met with a soft, supple, soaking welcome. “Baby.” He was about to lose his mind over the sweet wave of wetness that washed over the digits of his fingers as he barely pushes inside. “You’re so fucking wet.” He’s thanking and begging whatever deity above for more of the pleasure of your touch and the ability to make you feel as sticky and sweet as you do across his fingertips. He’d done something very right and wonderful to deserve you in this state and he couldn’t fathom what on earth it may have been, but he’d be sure to repeat it once he did.

All for him, this was all for him. Oh, if only he knew. All his, you were never for anyone else. From the second he walked into your life you were his. He was hoping that too. You thought your eyes were telling him too much, showing him too easily the depths of your affection but they weren’t even close to letting that secret out. He had no idea how you’d wanted him until this moment. This wasn’t even the first occasion you’d been damp at the idea of him. This was just the only situation in which you’d actually be able to do something about it without carrying a backbreaking amount of guilt. He must know this is how it’s been for you.

His fingers don’t dive into you like you may have needed them too, and you did, really. They simply explored you. They were slow to enter but were keen to twist and turn and stretch. He was learning the gateway to your paradise. He was finding the secrets you had hidden. “Fuck.” You were sighing so sweetly for him at each given breath, he might just have figured you out. “Oh, that’s it.” His smile was hard to miss, hard not to mirror too. “Yeah.” You try with all your might to compose yourself, not fall to pieces from the brush of his thumb to your clit while his fingers flickered a beat to the soft and sweet space inside of you. “God yeah that’s it.” You rolled your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. He’d barely twitched his wrist to aid you, hadn’t needed to. It was far too hypnotising to watch you take it for yourself. “So, fucking pretty baby.” He’s watching with a childlike curiosity, eyes wide, lips parted, brow’s quirking upward with inquisitiveness. “Finally shut you up.” He couldn’t resist the dig. You don’t resist the harsh shove you give his chest. Sending him backwards but never letting his fingers escape you. No, you needed to be filled, you would be filled.

“Gonna get all bratty on me now?” You opened your eyes, a panic washed through them, and he spotted it because he’s not taken his own eyes away from your face from the moment he tucked his fingers inside your damp little pussy. “Not gonna punish you, don’t worry.” You weren’t really worried. It was more of a muscle memory. It was an instinctive reaction to the response you were used to receiving. Even if you hadn’t gotten anything it was nice to know it might have been something he was into, once again checking off an invisible tick list of activities you might enjoy together if you ever did this again and God you hoped you would do this again.

He stroked your hair then, the side of your cheek just after. Your eyes hadn’t opened for the last few minutes, maybe even longer. So difficult to keep them anywhere near open when he’s plunging his fingers inside you like that. It’s not precise, it’s not clean. You wouldn’t say it was particularly clumsy, but it was far from perfect, and yet, you had so enjoyed it. He filled you in a way that there was room for improvement but not enough to avoid the urge to clamp down on his fingers when he’d curled them inside you. He certainly had a handle on that little trick. “Shh, you’re getting so loud sweetheart.” His grin wasn’t seen but it was certainly heard. “Gonna keep it down for me?” You knew he wanted to hear you, couldn’t want anything more actually but the prospect of teasing you and having one over on you where he usually couldn’t, well that was far more tempting to toy with. You knew damn well no one was close enough to hear a peep from either of you even if you screamed and honestly, you just might have.

“Fuck Calum,” he picked up his pace, his lips ghosted over your neck as he reached a new depth inside you. Your pussy clenched on his fingers. Your own nails scraped into his shoulders, biting into his skin, slipping a hiss through his teeth. “Come on baby.” Your eyes fluttered open to catch the look of concentration on his face, his eyes met yours with a twinkle of knowing. He can feel that you’re about to cum. He just knew it. Without your confirmation he knew. Your eyes rolled back, your head too, dropping far enough that your hair dripped down your back like water. He caught the back of your neck to support you. As if he’d really thought of everything. Knew to rescue you from that deep dull ache you might have gotten if he hadn’t bothered. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” His words had you squeezing him again, so hard he felt his pulse throbbing in his fingers, as well as your own beating deep in your cunt. “Come on sweetie don’t you wanna cum for me, know I’ve thought of little else.” It was like he’d been reborn the second you moaned his name. He was a different person here, he was remarkable. There was a burning passion within him that you’d only hoped he might have but seeing it in practice, confirming your fantasy of how good it could be, God that was enough. You were coming undone.

“So fucking pretty when you cum, you know that?” His fingers left you. You protested with a whimper and the rutting of desperate hips, but it was too late, his fingers were sinking between his lips. You were eyeing him like a tiger watching its prey as he tasted you, devouring your cum slicking his fingers. The noise of satisfaction and crude slurping is pornographic, and you simply can’t bear to be without his touch any longer. If he didn’t bury his stupid cock inside you, you’d never shut up ever again so long as you shall live. You’d make his every visit here his personal hell until he gave in and gave you what you needed. “You taste fucking delicious.” That tiny restraint you’d mustered in the past five seconds. Instantly disposed of.

Your hands flew to the zipper of his jeans, slinking inside them, hands coming down to grope the bulge concealed by his underwear. His lips parted as you kissed him, curiously gathering your own taste wrapped around his tongue. His back slammed roughly against the shelf and his only retaliation was to bite down hard on your bottom lip, fingers pulling on your hair to make you back up and add some space between you. “Jesus Calum, I know you want me to shut my mouth but biting off my bottom lip won’t do it.” He was apologetic in his mind but only in his mind. “Couch.” Is all he said. You shook your head. “No?” He took a daring step towards you unhappy with your defiance. Just as he’d tamed you, you go and act out again. It would never be enough, you only needed more. You shook your head, holding a breath as he looked around the room for other possible locations. He was sure he’d fuck you on the floor if it came to it. He hoped it wouldn’t come to it.

“I’ve never fucked standing up.” Is what you offered him, shoulders shrugging as you come out with it. He’s amused for sure. Not exactly the way he’d imagined his first time with you going but then again, he also didn’t imagine it being in the break room or this shop at all really. “Okay.” His calming smile settled the tension in the pits of your stomach. “Okay?” You asked him quietly. At first he thought you were just mimicking him in efforts to gain control but then he heard the way it wavered and pitched higher at the end. He broke his tough act and cupped your face in his hands. He adored the way you looked back at him, not a rain cloud or single storm in your sky. “Gonna need you to turn around for me.” He made no effort to let you move just yet, awaiting your willingness to comply before he set you free. He kissed you briefly before you did as he wanted without question, turning 180 degrees to face the shelves pressed to the wall.

He took both of your wrists from behind. You allowed his grip to guide you, first assuming he’d be crossing them behind your back, a flurry of excitement tingling within you. But instead, you found he’d lifted them forwards, your hands slipping onto the shelf in front of you as he’d wanted, holding onto it instinctively, realising now that he’d been offering you stability instead. Your body burned even brighter than before. You’d be needing something to grip because he wasn’t going to take you lightly, you needed to hold onto something if you were going to cope with him.

He knew you couldn’t possibly break. You’d proven to him already that you could handle it. You were so prepared to take him. Until you’d noticed the one little error of your ways. You’d not had the chance to see him, to wonder if your assumptions had been correct. You’d not known how big or how thick he was or how it’d curve and which direction it would curve in if it even curved at all. You may have felt your arousal trickling down your thighs. You may have been holding your breath and white knuckling the shelves before he even attempted to prick you but oh my. You were not even remotely prepared for the fullness.

Calum’s hands rested heavy on your hips. You expected to feel the nudge of his hand grazing your backside as he touched himself in preparation to graze your cunt, but he does no such thing. He simply thrusted himself between the hot, wet mess of your lips and cunt with no attempt to enter you at all. He didn’t dare stop until he was satisfied with the coating of your dampness now slicking his cock ready to take you. He leaned forward, chest embracing your back. He flipped your hair over your shoulder, his chin resting in the now empty space he’d created on the other side. You felt a slight drag of stubble close to your neck before he’s uttering his instructions for you. “Take my cock in your hand.” You shuddered under the breath he fanned across your ear. “Come on baby, just for me.” He kissed your neck in encouragement. His arms wrapped around your middle. Your left hand released the shelf with a crack at the knuckle, finding a new home now between your legs. You leant down, back arching, ass pushing out, bumping him as you refrained from hunching to complete your task.

You didn’t miss the way his hips bucked, and his cock jumped when your fingers found him. You didn’t miss how only your middle and ring finger could span the entirety of his thickness. You didn’t miss how one hand wasn’t nearly enough to capture his full length at once. And you certainly didn’t miss the amount of exposed skin going untouched when you glided your hand up and down him just to gather a better picture in your mind of what he might look like. You knew that in fact, it may take two. Two of your palms and even the addition of your lips at his tip to fully encase him. He was big. He was mouth-wateringly, cunt achingly big. You tugged him inside of you and braced the for the heat of the fever it brought upon your body. “Jesus fucking Christ.” A groan ripped from his throat.

He expected to give you a moment. He expected you to need adjusting like those he’d had before. He expected you to cry that it was too much and all too soon and that you couldn’t possibly take him completely. He expected his ego to be boosted so high he wondered how we was ever nervous of being with you in the first place. It never came. You didn’t dare wait to accept the intrusion of his thick cock. You didn’t dare to linger and wonder if it would ever start to feel better than a stretch. You just pushed your hips back onto him, your ass flush against his pelvis, cock sheathing itself inside you as far as it could go and then some. And then some because you’re not just taking him whole, swallowing him up till he couldn’t reach any further. No, you’re wiggling your ass, skin recoiling and wobbling against him with the quickness of your movement. You’re taking his cock so deep he’s feeling claustrophobia from the way your cervix is blocking his path, walls closing in on him preventing him from travelling deeper. And it excited you to think about the delicious specks of pain his hot cock was pricking your insides with.

It took every ounce of his strength not to flood you with his cum that very second. He could have done it. He wouldn’t have been embarrassed, not when it felt that good just to be inside you. Not when you really were made to engulf him in your flames. If he finished, who could blame him? To be hugged like that. To be warm and snug and held so tight. It would be cruel for anyone to tease a premature finish from a predicament like that.

“Baby, baby please.” Your voice was shaky, breathy, and so quiet. No wonder he hadn’t heard you over his own thoughts. How was it that you were the one stuttering when it was you that had felt so transcendent, not him? You had no fucking idea how well you took him. Even when he’d been standing there in bliss so long he’d forgotten he was supposed to be moving and enjoying you in the first place. It slipped right by you.

He kissed your neck, sucking sweet bruises beside those already scattered there previously. His hips pulled back, cock barely leaving you before surging back forwards. He pulled back further each time, pulling more of him away only to force it back in again with the echo of your wet cunt bouncing around the room. You gripped the shelves so hard you feared you may dent them, as he drove his cock into you. His hips pulsed into yours, balls slamming into you whenever his pelvis made contact. His one hand dug into the flesh of your waist, bunching your skin in his fingers, gripping so tight you worried he might pull the chunk clean off of you. Every now and then he bit down on your shoulder when you convulsed around him. “Keep squeezing me like that and I’m gonna fucking lose it.” You took it as an invitation to grip him again. He felt good because of you. You felt good because of him. Might as well enjoy it.

You threw your head back, resting it against his shoulder, exposing more of your throat to him as you started to fuck yourself onto his cock. He was losing it, not sure he ever had it to begin with actually, not around you. With every second passing by. Every time you made a fucking sound you drove him to madness. You were absolutely feral. You had all of the power. You met his every thrust. You angled him towards you, to your liking, even standing on the tips of your toes to feel him rub your sweet spot the way you’d needed. How was it that you’d ended up back in charge? Even when he’d been so convinced he’d gotten you where he wanted. Your pussy was so damn distracting, that’s how.

“Oh Calum.” He was revving himself up to regain control of you. His spare hand trapped your throat, his fingers and thumb adding little to no pressure around your neck just yet. “Please, God please fucking choke me.” His lips grunted heavily into your ear. Of course, you wanted it before he’d really thought about it. Always one step ahead of him even now. “This what you like?” He was beginning to constrict you, knowing full well you couldn’t communicate effectively now that he had but this time, he’d actually force you to.

“Come on, tell me.” Despite the steadiness of his tone, his lower half was anything but steady. He was pounding into you. It was so hard for you to focus and feel the structure of your own body as well as the shelf before you rattling away violently. You were trembling at his thrusts. Your back arched involuntarily. You pushed back to meet his hips whenever you could, and he certainly didn’t let you slip away far enough to make it easier on you. You were so overwhelmed you couldn’t tell which way was up, down, left, or right. He’d fucked you completely dumb, no thoughts swirling around your pretty little head anymore and yet, he needed the conversation. Why would he dare to make your life easier now?

“Tell me you like it; tell me you like my hand on your throat. Tell me how you like my cock fucking your pussy. Tell me this cunt is mine baby come on.” He was pushing you; he was forcing a response you’re too embarrassed to give and he was desperately hanging on the edge waiting to hear your confirmation. “Tell me baby!” He was the one crumbling to pieces now. His fingers loosened around your throat in an attempt to draw the words from it but it’s not his hand that was the problem. The problem was that you couldn’t dare speak because if you did, if you even attempted to produce a sound he’d know what you were doing. He’d know that you were so needy and gagging for it that you’d been cumming all over his cock just from the way he spoke to you. “I- love-.” You just couldn’t say it. You couldn’t catch your breath, you just moaned hard. “Fuck, did you just, did you just cum?”

You were so embarrassed. You knew he wasn’t upset; how could he be? He’d made you finish not once but twice in one night; your first night together might he add. Your embarrassment was lying in the fact you weren’t even close to being finished with him. You needed more. You had to get more. You’d had a taste of his addictive drug and you were not going to relinquish it now. “Good fucking girl.” He rasped. “Fuck you’re so good, unbelievable, unreal.” He was a mess of praises and curses. He was mind blown at the response he received from you. He knew it was good, knew you were feeling good but if he’d known you’d fall for him like this, he’d have made a move a lot sooner.

“More Cal, I need more.” His eyes nearly bulged from his skull. “What’s fucking wrong with you?” You snorted out a laugh to his question. You wish you fucking knew. Your body was way out of your control now. “Just fucking me so good.” You knew he wasn’t buying it. “Please baby.” He scoffed at your level of greed. You’re not playing it up to make him cum, you’re doing it because you want to another orgasm for yourself.

“You’re such a slut, you know that?” You did, you really did. “You’ve been holding out on me hmm, standing all sweet and precious behind that counter. Made me think that glitter lip gloss smile was sent from heaven above. You’re just another whore though aren’t you?” You were nodding furiously. “Been wanting this the whole tine haven’t you?”

His hips were more erratic and aggressive now. He was fucking into you so hard it actually started to hurt him as well as you. It was so hard your feet didn’t stay in the same spot for long, his thrusts forcing your form forward each and every time no matter how much you fought to remain still. “Fuck fuck.” You weren’t sure who it came from. You were reduced to nothing. No words, nothing coherent anyway, I mean fuck, you couldn’t even breathe properly, couldn’t stand properly. You were getting fucked rougher than you ever could have imagined and your whole body ached in pain but just to feel him you stood there and took it. You took it all.

“Cum already.” He half demanded half begged. He was on the cusp and would be damned if you didn’t finish before him even if it was your third time. “Or I finish without you.” A very empty threat. If he’d held it this long, he had the patience of a saint and he could wait a bit longer for it. His hips snapped into yours, cock so sharp inside you, spearing into you, ramming inside your cunt like it was the last thing he would ever do. He chased and chased the euphoric feeling, suddenly neglecting to check if you had found your own, so ready to take you for real, to give you all he had. “Fuck, where should I?” He tried to string the thought together before it was already too late.

You wanted it inside, more than anything you want it inside you, flooding your pussy, filling you up so much you overflow. You couldn’t be so irresponsible. Not this time. “Pull out, cum on me, come anywhere on me.” He pressed sweet kisses atop your spine while his cock still rocked into you milking your tight cunt for all it was worth right up until he couldn’t bare it any more, cock slipping out, his hands gripping it, pulling on the wet flesh before he jerked off, his release dripping hot beads of cum to coat the roundness of your ass. He gasped and grunted as he emptied himself, forehead pushing into your spine, sweat sliding down it. His left hand clutched yours pulling it down from the shelf to interlock with his. Once his breath was less short he brought it to his lips for a sweet kiss so unlike your treatment a moment ago.

The two of you stood there with your legs shaking and your breath ragged. “Jesus fucking Christ.” You broke the silence with a croaky voice, a surprise to neither of you with the amount of screaming you’d done. Calum sighed deeply, and you thought he might tell you to shut the fuck up, wouldn’t even blame him for it actually, but it never came. He instead pulled away from you, slinking down to his knees to grab your jeans and the panties crumpled inside them, sliding them back up your legs.

He used his discarded shirt to wipe the mess he’d made of your back, before tossing it to the ground, making a move to grab your striped top. He prodded your hips to get you to turn around, gasping at the blood trickling down your lower lip. “Oh sweetheart.” His thumb dipped to gather it away, lifting to show it to you briefly before suckling it into his mouth like some kind of vampire. You simply couldn’t avoid the way your lips whined at it. “Oh no, no way, you’re not getting turned on again, you’re banned.” He pecked your nose to lessen the threat before pulling your shirt over your head. He was hoping you might lift your arms to slip inside the material but not he wasn’t upset or surprised when he’d had to really commit to dressing you by himself.

When your head poked back through the material, a pout was coating your lips. “No seriously, what’s wrong with you?” He tried to deadpan the question, but you knew he wasn’t the slightest bit concerned for you. He enjoyed your neediness, it had him unashamed of the throbbing sensation returning to his cock at the vision of you bloodstained lips. The lips you’d bitten cause his cock was too fucking much for you, he adored that thought.

“You’re pretty mean.” You commented with lack lustre intensity. “And you’re pretty.” He responded, he didn’t even cringe, neither did you, thankfully. He continued to dress you till there were none of your clothes left lying around. He guided you over to the sofa, letting you rest before he even considered throwing his fleece back on. It wasn’t as if he was cold enough for it anyway, your comfort was more his concern right now. If that was the state of your lip, he can only imagine the damage to the rest of you.

“Can we cuddle?” You didn’t really think about how possible that would be on the tatty couch you now sat upon. The one you’d gotten from a thrift store a couple months back, painstakingly dragging it through the fire exit singlehandedly. Once he’d gathered his belongings he sat beside you, the couch dipping where his body sank down. He grabbed you with ease, bringing you into him. You cuddled into his side, your head first on his shoulder before dropping lower with your fatigue. You were now resting somewhere across his chest, low enough for him to rest his head atop yours. He stroked over your back absentmindedly but soothingly enough to have your eyes closing in relaxation. He caught your head drifting, twitching as you stumbled into slumber, the peace of being in his arms just carrying you far away.

“Hey pretty girl.” He nudged you lightly. “Don’t really think you wanna fall asleep right here.” He knew he wasn’t far behind you, but he had no intention of spending the night in that store room, even if the building was becoming his favourite place on earth. “What about upstairs?” You half yawn. “Upstairs?” He repeated it as a question. “Mmhmm.” You responded, as if it made it anymore clear to him. “A shred of context might be nice stripe.” You may have been exhausted but you were not about to let that nickname go unpunished. “Firstly, fuck off, secondly, when you fuck off, be sure to go through that door.” You weakly pointed at the door adjacent to the fire exit, again, something in this room he’d never have noticed unless it was pointed out to him. It must have been some kind of magic, surely he wasn’t ignorant enough not to spot that. “I live upstairs if you haven’t caught on yet, handsome.” He rolled his eyes playfully and you knew what was coming next when he started smirking before he even finished the sentence. “Well, isn’t that convenient?”

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