Not Your Typical Graveyard Shift
Summary: Modern AU - Two years of late nights, stolen glances, and unspoken feelings. On a snowed-in Valentine’s shift in Chicago, Elijah “Smoke” Moore finally stops holding back, and as a result, so do you.
Pairing: Elijah “Smoke” Moore x Black Fem!Reader
Word count: 6.5k
Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smutty smut, workplace romance, coworkers to lovers, sexual tension, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, rough sex, creampie
~~~~~~~~~~ Happy Valentine’s Day ~~~~~~~~~~
Valentine’s Day always felt like a prank whenever you worked overnight.
Pink balloons and chocolate hearts belonged to morning shift people. To couples with reservations and decorated beds waiting for them. Not to somebody pulling into a frigid Chicago parking lot at 10:47 p.m. with a travel mug of coffee and steel-toe boots in the passenger seat.
You killed the engine and sat there for a second, sipping your Folgers.
The warehouse loomed ahead—E80 Logistics, all steel and glass and fluorescent honesty. Pallets, paperwork, and long nights dominated the warehouse.
You adjusted your hoodie as you walked in, with a company-issued vest over it, fitted joggers hugging your hips and thighs, and boots laced tight. Gold hoops small enough not to violate the dress code and coffin nails painted pastel pink.
You liked your body. You actually loved your body, and you were painfully aware of who noticed it. The moment you stepped onto the floor, you felt it. Your work crush, Smoke.
Elijah.
He stood near Dock Three, his clipboard in hand, his head slightly bent as he checked the shipment numbers. Black work jacket zipped halfway, grey thermal underneath, work pants sitting low on his hips, boots a little scuffed but clean.
As usual, his beard was trimmed sharp and low-cut, lined perfectly. He was thirty-five years old, stood six feet tall, had broad shoulders, and exuded a calm authority. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard. Everybody else was loud, but Smoke never was.
He always smelled like coffee, cedarwood, and motor oil—somehow comforting and dangerous at the same time.
You’d memorized it without meaning to. Two years of standing too close would do that. Smoke was the logistics manager of your automotive department, and you were the logistics coordinator. You both basically ran the department when the owners didn’t feel like working. The two of you had been working eleven to seven over the last sixteen months.
“Evenin’,” Malik called from the time clock. “Valentine’s Day shift. We all down bad.”
“Speak for yourself,” you replied, clocking in. “I’m booked and busy.”
“With who?”
“Me, myself, and a paycheck.”
Malik threw his head back and cackled.
Smoke looked up just for a second, brown eyes meeting yours, warm and curious. You smiled at him, and he nodded once and went back to his clipboard.
Lord, give me strength, you thought as you walked over, boots echoing softly against concrete.
“Report ready?” you asked.
He handed it to you without looking. “Updated. Capone wants Dock Five cleared before two.”
“Of course he does,” you sighed. “Man hates sleep.”
“He Italian,” Smoke muttered. “Sleep optional for them.”
You snorted before you could stop yourself. He glanced up again; one corner of his mouth twitched. It was not quite a smile, but it was close. You caught it, and your heart did a stupid little dance.
You leaned against the desk beside him, scanning the paperwork, close enough that your arm brushed his.
He stiffened slightly, and you pretended not to notice.
“Seventy-six inbound units,” you whistled. “They tryna kill us.”
“We built for it,” he replied, voice low.
No matter what he was saying, it always affected you.
You flipped a page. “Bernadette on shift tonight?”
His jaw tightened. “Unfortunately.”
You grinned. “She still asking about you?”
“Every week.”
“And you still dodging her?”
“Yes.”
“Why though?” you teased. “She thick. Got a nice-ass pension.”
He finally looked at you fully now. “My brother already hit.”
You froze. “…Excuse me?”
“And she used to be a lot lizard.”
You blinked at him before you lost it. You let out a full-body, hand-over-mouth, wheezing laugh.
“Oh my God—Smoke—no, you did not just—”
Heads turned and forklifts paused.
Malik’s lazy ass stared, and Bernadette glared from across the floor.
You were doubled over, trying to whisper, but it was too funny. “I’m—sorry—retired—LOT LIZARD?!”
Smoke watched you quietly for a few seconds, and then he smiled. His smile was genuine and private, reserved only for you. It felt as though he had forgotten the existence of anyone else. Like it was just you and him and that goofy-ass laugh of yours.
You caught the look he gave you mid-snicker and forgot how to breathe.
Oh. So that’s what Smoke looks like when he finally lets go.
You straightened, suddenly shy and muttered. “…You wrong for that.”
“Just tellin’ the truth,” he shrugged, still smiling.
He inhaled slowly as the scent of your hair drifted between you. He never failed to notice when you conditioned with the rosemary mint instead of the avocado. It always flooded his senses in the best way possible.
His gaze lingered a second too long. On your lips, down to your waist, and back up to your eyes.
He cleared his throat and turned when he saw you were watching him check you out.
“Come on,” he beckoned over his shoulder. “Let’s get to work.”
You followed him down the aisle, heart thumping.
Two years.
Two years of stolen glances, shared coffees, late-night talks, comfortable silences, and unspoken feelings.
Something felt different about tonight. Yeah, it was Valentine’s Day, and you both were still single, but it felt like the air was holding its breath. The late night seemed to have its own plans.
By midnight, the warehouse had settled into its usual rhythm. The warehouse was filled with the quiet hum of forklifts and the whispering of conveyor belts. Overhead radio was playing somebody's dusty R&B playlist in the background, and every now and then the fluorescent lights buzzed, like they were tired of the music selection too.
It was an inventory night. Your favorite. Not because it was easy but because you two had a routine that was yours. It got the job done in a timely and efficient manner.
You stood beside Smoke at Dock Five, tablet in hand, hair pulled into a low puff at your nape. Hoodie sleeves pushed up, gold bracelet clinking softly every time you moved.
Smoke was already in position. He had a clipboard tucked under his arm, a pen behind his ear, and his jacket was fully unzipped with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.
His veins were distracting. You tried hard not to pay them any attention, but you failed every single time.
“Alright,” you hummed, tapping your screen. “Row A through F first. Then we loop back.”
“Mm-hm,” he nodded. “I’ll scan. You log.”
“Like always.”
Like always.
Two years of muscle memory.
You didn’t even have to look at him when you worked. You already knew where he’d be, when he’d pause, and when he’d double-check to catch a mistake before it happened.
He knew you too. He was aware of your preference for rows in order, your dislike for skipping pallets, your habit of color-coding everything, and your tendency to mutter under your breath when numbers didn't match.
“You missed 487-B,” he pointed out.
You blinked. “I did not.”
He tilted his clipboard toward you.
You squinted. "Okay. You right.”
A small smile ghosted his lips. “I’m always right.”
“Don’t get cocky now, Smoke,” you warned.
“Too late.”
You bumped his shoulder lightly as you walked past. He didn’t move or flinch. He just watched you go to the next pallet.
Across the floor, Malik was leaning on a pallet, scrolling his phone, Jason sat on a crate eating Funyuns, and Bernadette was painting her nails plum.
All on company time.
Capone walked out of his office, coffee in hand, surveying the scene. His eyes lingered on you and Smoke. You were already three rows ahead, locked in. Then he looked at the others. Lazy and behind on their inventory.
“Malik,” Capone called. “Why you not scanning?”
“Uh—break,” Malik said quickly.
“You been on break for forty minutes.”
Jason choked on a chip, and Bernadette didn’t even look up.
Capone sighed like a man reconsidering all his life choices. He walked over to you and Smoke.
“My stars,” he complimented. “Only two people in this place who work like they get paid.”
You grinned. “We do get paid.”
“Exactly,” he said, pointing at you. “You understand.”
Malik jumped up. “Boss, listen—me, Jason, Bernie—we was thinking…”
Bernadette perked up. “Yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day.”
Jason nodded. “You should let us go home. Be with family.”
Malik added, “Smoke and her got this anyway. They the best crew.”
You slowly turned. “…Excuse me?”
Smoke raised an eyebrow.
Capone looked suspicious.
“They don’t need us,” Malik continued. “They like a machine.”
“A machine,” Jason agreed.
“Plus,” Bernadette said, waving her hand. “I got plans.”
With who, nobody knew.
Capone studied you and Smoke for several seconds, then he looked at the time.
12:43 a.m.
He rubbed his temples.
“You know what?” he exhaled sharply. “Fine. Go. All three of you. Before I change my mind.”
They froze.
“For real?” Malik asked.
“Go,” Capone snapped. “Before I fire somebody.”
They scattered—grabbed their phones and pulled on their jackets. Jason left his half bag of Funyuns on one of the pallets.
Within two minutes, they were gone.
Silence fell. It was just you, Smoke, Capone and 12,000 units of inventory.
“My two MVPs,” Capone grinned as he rubbed his hands together. “I owe you dinner.”
“You owe us raises,” you blurted sweetly.
He laughed. “Maybe.” Then he grabbed his coat. “I’ll be in my office. Call if anything explodes.”
“Always,” Smoke replied.
And just like that…you and Smoke were alone. Really alone. No distractions or witnesses. Just you and him.
Midnight crept closer.
“…So,” you glanced around. “Guess it’s just us.”
“Guess so,” he replied. His voice sounded different now, quieter.
You walked back to your station.
“Alright then, Mr. Manager,” you quipped. “Let’s show ‘em why we’re elite.”
He stepped close enough that you could smell his cologne again, close enough to brush your shoulder as he reached for the scanner.
“After you, Y/N,” he murmured.
You shook your head and resumed working, but something had definitely shifted. He handed you boxes before you asked. You called numbers before he finished scanning. Your movements synced like a dance.
At one point, you reached for the same pallet. Your hands touched, and neither of you pulled away this time.
You looked up, and Smoke was already looking down at you. His eyes were unreadable but heavy with something you didn’t recognize.
“Sorry,” you whispered.
“Don’t be,” he replied, still not pulling away, so neither did you.
A beat or two passed before he stepped back, professional and controlled.
You exhaled slowly.
Lord. If inventory was doing this to you…what was the rest of the night about to do?
By 1:38 a.m., most of Dock Five was finished. Clipboards were updated, numbers were balanced and pallets were stacked neatly. Too neat, which only meant—
“Section G,” you realized, checking your tablet. “Back storage.”
Smoke sucked his teeth. "Hate that section.”
You snickered. “Why? It’s peaceful back there.”
“It’s creepy.”
“You scared of the dark, Elijah?”
The name slipped out, soft and private.
He stopped walking, and you froze.
“Sorry,” you said quickly. “I—”
“It’s fine, Y/N,” he assured, but his voice sounded…different. Rougher.
You walked on, pretending you didn’t notice the change in his tone.
Section G sat at the far end of the warehouse, past the main docks and behind rows of old shelving. Fewer lights, narrower aisles, dust on the beams, and boxes that hadn’t moved in months.
The quiet section….where sound went to disappear.
Your boots echoed as you walked in. The air felt cooler back here. You rolled the sleeves of your hoodie back down.
“Creepy as hell,” you admitted softly.
“Told you,” Smoke taunted.
He flicked on his flashlight, its soft beam cutting through the darkness.
You worked side by side, moving slower now. Scanning, logging, stacking. Your shoulders brushed more often in the narrow aisle. Neither of you mentioned it.
At one point, you reached up for a pallet, and it was higher than you thought.
You stretched your toes, lifted your hoodie, and arched your back slightly, but you still couldn’t get a steady grip.
“Got it,” Smoke offered.
Before you could respond, he stepped right behind you, chest brushing your back as he reached up. He was warm and solid, and your hormones were raging. This proximity didn’t help in the slightest.
He grabbed the box with little effort, but he didn’t move right away.
You both stilled as his breath grazed your ear. Your skin lit up like someone flipped a switch.
“Thank you, Elijah.”
“You know I got you.”
He stepped back slowly.
You cleared your throat, focusing on your tablet like it suddenly held all the secrets of the universe.
A few minutes passed in silence, with the occasional soft beep of the scanner.
Smoke was the one to break the silence.
“Why you only say my name back here?”
You looked up. “What you mean?”
“Elijah,” he added. “You only call me that when it’s just us.”
Your heart stumbled. “I—um,” You shrugged lightly. “It feels…personal. Nobody really calls you that, I guess.”
He nodded, staring at a stack of boxes that definitely wasn’t even intriguing.
“I like it.”
You blinked. “I—what?”
He finally looked over at you.
“I like when you say it,” he admitted. “When you say my real name.”
Your breath caught. “Oh.”
Silence rushed in, settling thick and heavy in the room.
“You don’t gotta,” he stammered. “I mean—it ain’t—”
“Elijah,” you whispered.
He froze.
You took a step closer. “Is that better?”
His jaw tightened. “Mmhmm.”
Your pulse raced. “Why?”
“Because it feels like…” He hesitated. “Like you see me. Not just Smoke, the manager. Just…me. Elijah.”
Your chest warmed.
“Of course I see you,” you said quietly. “I always have.”
His gaze dropped to your lips.
“You don’t know how hard it is,” he whispered.
“What is?”
“To act like I don’t notice you.” “To act like I don’t want you.” “To act like I’m not thinkin’ about you every damn night.”
The words continued to spill out, uncontrolled but truthful.
He went still as if he’d said too much.
“My fault,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t—”
You reached for his hand, stopping him. “Don’t apologize.”
He looked down at you, hope flickering behind his brown eyes.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve been feeling the same way for two years.”
The warehouse was silent, mirroring Smoke's tension.
“Wait—you serious?”
“Deadass.”
His thumb brushed your knuckles once, reverently. “Damn.”
And in that quiet aisle, surrounded by boxes and fluorescent shadows, something finally cracked open. Two years of restraint and longing seemed to cease.
The silence after your confession was so loud it felt unreal. Two years of almosts finally spoken. Smoke—Elijah—was still holding your hand. It was as if he feared that if he moved too quickly, you might disappear.
His thumb brushed your skin again. “You don’t know how long I been waiting to hear that.”
“Well,” you smiled softly as your heart thumped harder, “you could’ve—”
A sharp crackle cut through the air.
—KSSHHHT—
Both of you jumped.
The radio clipped to his belt crackled again with Capone’s voice. “Smoke. You copy?”
He sighed quietly before answering, “Yeah. I’m here.”
“Where you at?”
“Section G.”
“Of course you are,” Capone muttered. “Listen. Channel Five just put out an alert. Snowstorm moving in fast. Strong winds in the next hour or so.”
Your eyes widened. “Already?"
“Bad?” he asked.
“Bad,” Capone confirmed. “Roads finna be trash. I don’t want nobody stranded. You two gotta wrap inventory and prep shutdown.”
“Understood,” Smoke replied.
“Good. And uh…” Capone hesitated. “…Y’all alright back there?”
You held your breath as Smoke glanced at you. Something soft passed between you.
“Yeah,” he answered. “We good.”
“Alright. Call me when you clear.”
The radio clicked off and silence rushed back in.
You both stood there, staring at each other.
“Well,” you sighed deeply. “That was rude.”
He huffed a quiet laugh.
“I was right in the middle of—”
“Confessing more feelings?” you teased gently.
He smiled fully this time, pearly whites shining in the dimmed room.
“Nah,” he admitted. “Workin’ up the nerve to kiss you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” he stepped closer.
Snow began tapping faintly against the high windows above. Tiny whispers of white.
“You still want me to?” he asked honestly. No ego or assumption.
“Yes,” you replied instantly. “Very much.”
He leaned in, and as soon as you tilted your head, another loud clang echoed down the aisle. A pallet settling. Interrupting the moment AGAIN.
He exhaled sharply and then laughed under his breath. “Warehouse got beef with me tonight.”
You giggled. “Apparently.”
He rested his forehead against yours, and you held on to his shoulders.
“I promise,” he whispered, “I ain’t letting this go. Storm or no storm.”
You smiled, brushing his beard lightly with your thumb. “I’ll hold you to that, Elijah.”
He closed his eyes briefly at his name. “Keep sayin’ my name like that and see what happens.”
You couldn’t contain your laugh.
Outside, the snow thickened. Inside, something even stronger was building, and neither of you was going anywhere. By 2:17 a.m., the storm had stopped playing. Snow slammed against the windows like handfuls of salt, wind howled through the loading docks, and the parking lot lights were halos in white fog.
“Okay,” you grimaced, staring out. “That escalated.”
Smoke stood beside you, phone in hand, refreshing the weather app for the fifth time.
“Roads closing,” he said quietly. “Highway already backed up.”
You turned to him. “You serious?”
He nodded. “City plows can’t keep up.”
The warehouse felt smaller now as you walked side by side to the main deck.
Capone stormed out of his office, phone pressed to his ear.
“No, Maria, I cannot teleport!” he snapped at his wife. “Yes, I know it’s Valentine’s Day!” “I DO love you!” “I am trapped in my own damn building!”
You bit your lip to keep from laughing, and Smoke covered his mouth with his fist.
Capone paced back and forth, voice booming throughout the warehouse.
“These roads are ice! ICE! You want me dead?!” “Yes, I’ll bring flowers tomorrow!” “…Yes, real ones!”
He ended the call and exhaled like a man who had just survived war.
“You two,” he said, pointing. “Congratulations. We stuck.”
Your stomach flipped, and you asked. “For how long?”
“Until plows clear,” he shrugged. “Maybe two or three hours.”
Smoke frowned. “We still got Section J.”
Capone waved him off. “Forget it. Storm too bad. Find somewhere to relax.”
He trudged back to his office and slammed his door, muttering stuff about his wife being inconsiderate.
You wrapped your arms around yourself.
“It’s freezing,” you shivered.
“Come here,” Smoke said without thinking. Then he froze once he realized how that may have landed. “I mean—”
“It’s okay,” you said softly, stepping closer.
He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. It was warm and smelled like him. You inhaled before you could stop yourself. He noticed, eyes warming in amusement.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much,” you replied.
Outside, thunderous wind beat against the windows.
“Follow me,” he said suddenly.
“Where?”
“Somewhere warmer.” He explained as he took your hand and led you toward the back.
Your pulse raced as he led you past stacked pallets, down a narrow corridor, toward the old supervisor’s office near Section J. He unlocked it with his keycard and pulled you inside with him. The door clicked shut behind you.
The room was small, but it had a desk, chair, couch and a tiny space heater that hummed in the corner. It was safe, warm and quiet.
He leaned back against the door, exhaling sharply as he ran a hand over his beard.
“I didn’t want our first real moment to be in a freezing aisle,” he admitted.
“I kinda liked it,” You joked.
He chuckled and stepped closer. Your breath mingled as he crowded you.
“I meant what I said,” he expressed. “About wanting you. About thinking about you.”
“I know,” you nodded. “I’ve seen it. In the little things.”
“Like what?”
“The way you always save me the good clipboard, the way you walk me to my car, and definitely the way you notice my hair.”
His eyes softened as he confessed. “It smells so good.”
You laughed softly. “My conditioner?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Been my weakness for two years.”
You reached up, lightly grazing his beard.
“Mine’s your cologne,” you whispered. “Especially that cedar wood one.”
His breath hitched.
“Elijah,” you said softly.
He closed his eyes for half a second, pulled you flush against him, and opened them.
“I’m right here.”
For once, nothing stood between you anymore. The heater gently hummed in the corner, while snow pelted the windows with a furious intensity.
Smoke was holding you in his arms like he’d finally decided to stop running from himself.
“I held back,” he admitted.
You tilted your head. “Why?”
He cleared his throat. “Cause you my coworker. The most peaceful aspect about this damn job is you. Your chest warmed as he continued. “I didn’t wanna mess it up because once I start wanting you, I’m all in.”
Your thighs clenched involuntarily. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
He grinned. “Maybe.”
You rested your hands on his shoulders. “So you been torturing both of us…for professionalism?”
“This ain’t all on me. Why you ain’t tell me you was feeling me?”
You cleared your throat. “That’s rude.”
“Nah, it’s the truth.”
He lifted his hand, knuckles brushing your cheek.
“Imma kiss you now. You good with that?”
“Yes,” you breathed.
He closed the distance, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. You sighed softly and kissed him back, grip tightening on his shoulders.
Two years poured into one touch.
You deepened the kiss, and his hand slid to your waist, groaning quietly against your mouth. His restraint cracked, and he kissed you like he’d been starving. You melted into him. He backed you against the desk, tugging on your bottom lip.
His hand slipped under your hoodie, grip firm on your hip, and you gasped. His lips trailed from your jaw to your neck.
“Elijah…” you moaned.
He froze and pulled back, panting softly.
“No,” he muttered.
You blinked in confusion. “No?”
He rested his forehead against yours.
“I want you,” he acknowledged. “Bad.”
“Then why—”
“But I respect you too much to treat you like Bernadette,” he finished.
You stared.
Then burst out laughing. “Oh my God.”
He chuckled too. “I’m serious.”
“You comparing me to a retired lot lizard right now?”
“I am not—”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m just saying—” He laughed harder. “You special. You not some late-night mistake.”
You wiped your eyes. “Wow. Romantic.”
“Shut up,” he chided.
“So,” you teased, “how did Stack even end up with her?”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“You gotta tell me now.”
“She bought him wings,” he muttered.
You screamed. “NOT WINGS.”
“She paid the extra $3 for all flats too,” he sighed. “That’s all it took.”
“She get him ranch too?”
“Yep. The homemade kind.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
You reached for his hand.
“Two years,” you noted. “We been tiptoeing around each other for two years.”
“I know.”
“I’m tired of tiptoeing.”
He searched your face. “You mean that?”
“Yes.” You smiled. “I’m ready to find out what I been missing.”
He hummed, eyes darkening with anticipation.
“And,” you added lightly, “it’s Valentine’s Day. So it’s only right.”
“Don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it, Y/N.”
“I mean it,” you promised.
“Then I’m yours tonight,” he murmured. “And every night after that.”
Outside, the storm raged. Inside, two hearts finally stopped pretending.
You pulled him back in by the back of his neck, kissing him with everything you have. His full lips were soft and warm against yours. You couldn’t get enough of him. He broke the kiss, and you tugged his bottom lip between your teeth.
He groaned softly. “Careful,” he warned against your lips. “I’m tryna be respectful.”
“Who said I wanted you to behave?”
His eyes darkened. “You want me to take you in here?”
“Yep. Right on that lopsided couch.”
“Damn,” he snorted. “You really been holding back, huh?”
“So have you,” you shot back. “No more holding back. I want you.”
He pressed his forehead to yours and checked in one last time, “You sure you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no going back. You mine now.”
“Then take what’s yours then, Elijah.”
He kissed you again, and you kissed him back even harder, stumbling back toward the small leather couch in the corner, and he lowered you down gently, hands steady despite the way his breathing isn’t.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, and he paused—just long enough to give you a chance to stop him. You don’t stop him, of course, and the air shifted as the moment deepened.
He pulled your pants and panties off and stepped back for a second, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his phone. His thumbs moved quickly across the screen.
Tap. Scroll. Tap.
After removing your sweater and bra, you propped yourself up on your elbows, flushed and confused.
When he handed the phone to you, you arched a brow. “You want me to record or something?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Will you just look at the damn screen, woman?”
You rolled your eyes playfully and finally turned it toward yourself, instantly freezing.
It was his MyChart.
The screen displayed his most recent STD screening lab results.
All negative.
Your breath caught, and the room suddenly felt quieter despite the snow coming down faster and the wind blowing harder outside.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with the Henley he’s slowly pushing off his shoulders.
“I just wanted to assure you,” he expressed softly, meeting your eyes now, serious. “You safe with me.”
The thoughtfulness, the fact that you didn’t even have to ask, and the fact that he thought about your comfort before anything else only made your heart beat faster and clit pulse harder.
Your chest tightened and your eyes widened once he was finally down to his briefs. The fabric didn’t do much to conceal what Smoke had been packing all these years. The man had more girth than a Montezuma cypress.
“Goddamn,” you muttered as you bit your lip.
He grinned as he kneeled on the couch cushion by your feet and offered, “I got a condom too, if you feel more comfortable.”
You shook your head and set the phone carefully on the side table, eyes and voice softer now. “I trust you, Smoke.”
“Elijah,” he corrected.
You smiled at him as you watched him settle comfortably between your legs. “Elijah.”
Your legs trembled just from the way he was looking at you. He slid his hands up your thighs, warm palms slowly caressing your soft brown skin like he was finally touching something he’d only gotten the chance to in his wildest dreams.
He gripped your hips and pulled you closer to his face. “That pussy shining for me,” he praised, fingers trailing back down your thighs. “So pretty for me.”
You gasped softly as he hooked both of your legs over his shoulders. He paused, looking up at you like he was memorizing every expression. “You good, Y/N?”
All you could do was nod.
He leaned down and placed the most tender kiss on the inner part of your thighs. The feather-light action caused you to inhale eagerly. He pressed another kiss, higher this time, and you held your breath in anticipation.
"Breathe for me," he instructed just before licking up your slit, tongue warm and pressure tender, taking pleasure in every taste because he'd been longing for you. Your hips shifted, but he held you in place with firm hands.
“Keep breathing, baby,” he cooed against you. “I got you.”
He circled your clit with his tongue, each motion deliberately timed.
You gasped, the back of your head thunking against the arm of the couch, “Elijah…”
“Mmm.”
“It feels so good.”
He closed his mouth around your clit, sucking gently, tongue pressing in insistent strokes. Your eyes rolled back as your hands grabbed at your thighs, the cushions, and then the back of his head.
“Eli—fuckfuckfuck—yes, Elijah.”
“There we go,” his encouragements came out muffled. He flattened his tongue at your entrance and dragged it upward, swirling at the base of your clit. “Taste so good.”
Your thighs were already shaking like a salt shaker, and he just got started. The anticipation and overall excitement got the best of you.
He pushed two fingers into you slowly, curling them upward at the perfect angle.
“Need to open this tight-ass pussy up.”
“Oh shit.”
Your eyes fluttered closed, and a low whine escaped your throat. He was too good at this. His skills far exceeded your naughtiest dreams.
He sucked your clit harder, thick fingers curling deeper and stretching your walls. The pleasure was building so sharp and fast you choked on a sob, hands flying to your mouth to stifle the sound.
"Don’t hide from me," he scolded, brown eyes locking onto yours as he waited for you to drop your hands. "Let me hear how good I’m doing.”
You dropped your hands and nodded.
His hands pinned your thighs open wider as his tongue flicked faster and his fingers thrusted harder inside you, your wetness coating the digits. Your back arched, and a cry spilled out before you could even catch it. “Smo—Elijah, I’m about to cum.”
He groaned against you, the vibration surging through every nerve as his skilled tongue applied more pressure against your clit and his fingers curled deeper. Your orgasm ripped through you so hard your body convulsed as a pleasurable scream tore out of your throat. You writhed on the couch, moaning Smoke’s name as his grip on your thighs tightened.
“Oh my—Elijah!”
Eventually he slowed, fingers slipping out of you when you let out an overstimulated whimper. He placed one final kiss on your clit before rising up, knees digging into the couch cushions.
He freed himself from his briefs and stroked the base of his length while he watched your chest rise and fall. You sank your teeth into your bottom lip as you stared back at him. You didn’t know what to be more impressed by—the length or the girth. The tip was fat and glistening, and your mouth began to water.
If someone had told you your Valentine’s Day was going to end like this, you would have looked at them like they were a lying fool.
“Come here,” you beckoned as your breathing eased.
He slotted himself in between your legs, fingers digging into your sides as he kissed you hungrily. You exhaled softly at the sweet taste of yourself on his tongue and deepened the kiss while wrapping your arms around his neck.
He reached between your bodies and gripped his length, tapping the thick tip against your sensitive clit. You moaned into his mouth as he lined himself up and pushed inside.
“Fuuuck,” you both exhaled sharply.
He pushed deeper, muttering praises and reminding you to breathe until he finally sank all the way inside you. Your lips parted in a breathless moan, grip tightening on his shoulders as your eyes fluttered shut. “Ohh fuuuckkk…”
“Wet ass pussy.”
“Feel so good.”
“Y/N, shit, baby.”
“Keep going, Elijah.”
He groaned into your neck, voice ragged. “You squeezin’ the fuck outta me…pussy warmer than—ooooh shit.”
He pulled out an inch before plunging all the way back in, circling his hips a few times before rocking into you slowly. “How that feel?”
“Good…” you gasped, legs spreading wider to grant him better access, voice cracking. “Really fuckin’ good.”
“Mmhmm, I can feel that tight pussy stretching,” he grunted softly. “Open up for me, baby.”
Your body softened under him, tension melting away as pleasure warmed every inch of your skin. You lifted your hips, taking more of him.
“There you go,” he rocked into you a little deeper, and you moaned into his mouth, your legs tightening around his waist in instinctive want. “Give me that pussy.”
“Take it, baby.”
“Fuucckk.”
“You feel so good.”
“Goddamn,” he grunted, shifting the angle of his hips slightly before setting a faster pace. “You look so pretty takin’ this dick.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” your moans came out raspy, breasts bouncing as he continued fucking you deep.
“You like the way I fuck this pretty pussy?” He asked, hips slamming against yours rougher now.
You nodded your head.
“Use your words, baby.”
His words of praise and the way he looked down into your eyes pushed you closer to the edge. You couldn’t even respond. The relentless pace he set damn near knocked the air from your lungs, and your mouth fell open in a silent scream.
“Ooooh,” he chuckled, a smug grin appearing on his sexy-ass face. “I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?”
“Elijah!”
“This what you wanted, right?”
His hand slid up your body, squeezing your breast while the other bounced freely. The heightened intensity of the pleasure washed over you until it was all you could feel pulsing through your veins.
“Fuuuck,” you gasped sharply. “Elijah, ple—please don’t stop.”
He couldn’t help but shudder at the desperate way you moaned his name. His lips captured yours in a hungry kiss as the room filled with the increasing sound of wet slaps of skin and filthy moans.
Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.
“Give me that pussy.”
“Take it, baby! Take it!”
“Such a good girl, the way you takin’ all this dick.”
“Ooooooh my god!”
“Just like that.”
“Fuck, I—I c—“
“Mmhmm, come up off it, Y/N. Give me that pussy.”
Your breaths were getting more uneven and sharp as each blissful second passed.
“Breathe through your nose, Y/N.” Smoke reminded you as he reached between your bodies and teased your clit with his thumb. “You hear me? Just breathe, baby.”
“Yes, I hear you!”
“Good fuckin’ girl.”
“You feel so good, Elijah.”
“Stop holding it in then. Give me that nut.”
You couldn't help but whimper as he brushed against that sweet spot deep inside of you again and again AND AGAIN.
“Yessss!” you cried out, squeezing your legs even tighter around him and gripping his shoulders as he stroked deeper. “Eli—shitshitshit—I’m gonna fuckin’ cum again,” you warned shakily, toes curling as your eyes snapped shut.
“Oooh, I feel it,” he growled, restraint barely holding on as he felt your walls contract around him. “Cum all over this dick.”
Your orgasm ripped through you, and your mouth fell open in a loud scream. This one was much more intense than the first. He kept fucking you through it, drilling the breath right out of you.
“There she go.”
“Ahhh!”
“Look how pretty you look when you cumming all on this dick.”
“Baby, fuuuuuck!”
“Look at that,” he cooed, eyes staring down at the cream coating his dick. “You makin’ a mess all over this dick, baby.”
He wasn’t letting up. In fact he was ramming into you harder and faster. Knocking the Mario coins right up out of you like they were long lost treasure.
Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.
“Elijah, please—fuckfuckfuck—You gonna make me cum again! I’m—I”
It didn’t take long for your walls to tighten back up around his fat dick; you trembled silently, choking on your own gasps and whimpers.
“Oh shit—that’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ about,” he moaned deeply, pace growing more relentless with each needy noise you made. "Keep nuttin’ on this dick, baby."
“Pleaseee!”
“You ready for this nut?”
“Yesss! Please give me that nut!”
“You finna get all this shit.”
“Elijah—“
“Look at me,” he demanded, moans growing louder as he rutted into you like a madman, chasing his own orgasm. “Look at me while I nut in this pussy.”
You looked up at him, eyes filled with blissful tears. He was fucking you so good. Every nerve felt like it was being pinched. Your thighs were still shaking, and your wetness was everywhere.
You bit your lip and dug your fingers into his forearms, pausing for a few seconds, then asked, “You hear that? You hear what you do to me?” The squelching sound of your wet pussy filled the entire room. He glanced down at how much of a mess you made on his dick and groaned. When his eyes lifted and met yours again, you whispered, “Make one more mess and nut in this pussy.”
His hands gripped your hips so tightly you could feel his nails digging into your flesh. He was without a doubt going to leave thumbprints on your skin. “Fuckfuckfuck—I’m cumming, baby.”
He came with a growled curse, hips faltering as he shot everything he had inside of you. You whined as his cum filled you, warming you from the inside. He stroked your pussy lazily a couple more times before pulling out entirely, his soaked length softening. He exhaled sharply as he lowered himself on the couch, back in between your legs, gawking at the mess he had made.
“Mm, mm, mm. I put a hurting on that pussy, huh?” He kissed your thigh. “Let me see you push my nut out, baby.”
Your face burned with embarrassment as he shoved his face closer to your glistening cunt, but you obeyed and began pushing it out. He cursed under his breath, and his spent dick twitched in interest as his cum dripped out of your entrance.
"Good fuckin’ girl," he praised, unsure whether the sight of his claim or the fact that you didn't hesitate to listen to him turned him on more. “So pretty, Y/N.”
He kissed your knee before standing and grabbing some napkins. You both breathed shakily, warm bodies completely spent as he cleaned you up.
“I can’t believe we waited two years to do that.” You uttered incredulously.
He grinned. “Worth the wait though, right?”
You nodded. “Hell yeah. We should—“
—KSSHHHT—
“SMOKE?! Y/N?! WHERE YOU AT?!”
You both jumped.
“Oh shit,” you whispered. You forgot where y’all were for a few minutes.
“I’LL FIRE EVERYBODY ELSE AND SHUT THIS PLACE DOWN!”
Smoke grabbed the walkie. “We here!”
“Where?! The storm is getting worse!”
You froze halfway through clipping your bra back on.
“Inventory,” Smoke said quickly. “Doing one last count.”
You covered your mouth, fighting back a snort.
Capone groaned. “Get back up here, the both of you! It’s cold as hell back there, and I ain’t giving you worker’s comp for frostbite!”
Click.
You both scrambled to halfway clean yourselves off and redress.
After staring at each other for five seconds, you both burst into laughter.
“You fucked me so good I forgot we was at work,” you sighed deeply.
“Worth it,” he vouched as he smoothed your edges and kissed your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N.”
You beamed at him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Elijah.”
He held the door open for you, and you both walked out side by side to Capone's office.