out of pocket (18+)
summary: when your friend bails on your girls' night, you convince adrian to drink with you instead. you don't know what to expect, but definitely not what happens pairing: adrian chase x coworker!reader word count: 3,4k warnings: vulgar language, smut (mdni); oral (f!receiving), vaginal fingering, praise, cum-eating
When you read the text from your friend, you could not suppress the disgruntled sound tearing from your throat, making at least two tables look your way, like 'how dare you make a weird noise while we're having family dinner', and you narrow your eyes and snap: "Eat your fucking zoodles."
"Yeah, we're closing in like half an hour, knuckle-dick!" You look over your shoulder as Adrian passes by, matching your aggression towards the customers.
You were fairly new at Fennel Fields, though you had waited tables at more places than you cared to count in the last couple of years. It was as thankless a job as any, but it was way more fun a workplace with a coworker like Adrian Chase.
The others called him a weirdo - and well, you could not take that from him - and said he was definitely missing a couple of screws, but you found that he was fun to be around. He did not possess a whole lot of social grace, not unlike yourself, and he often said unhinged things, which made you laugh. In the beginning, you thought he was just fucking around and finding out, like you did, but you were slowly starting to realize he was, in fact, very odd.
You followed him into the kitchens in the back, deciding to audibly whine about your disappointments because you knew he was inconceivably shitty at catching non-verbal clues. "My friend just bailed on our girls' night. "
"Why? Is she angry with you or something?" he asked incredulously.
You scoffed. "What? No, she got sick."
Adrian huffed, craning his neck and making a grimace. "I mean, to be fair, I'd probably get like a smidge annoyed too if you like coughed on me and I got sick right after or some shit."
Clueless as to how he got to that scenario, you could do nothing but gawk, trying to figure out if he was actually being serious. For a moment, he just watched you, seemingly expecting you to respond as in any other situation.
Your brows furrowed. "What? Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?"
"Your friend," Adrian said matter-of-factly, looking rather puzzled.
You shook your head, realizing this was going absolutely nowhere. "Fucking hell," you muttered in disbelief and joined him by the washing stand. "Anyway... what're you doing tonight?"
Adrian froze for a second, his frame rigid and jaw taut, as if you had just caught him doing something he should absolutely not be doing.
"Uhh... stuff," he responded awkwardly and used his bicep to push his glasses further up his nose.
You snorted, crinkling your nose in confusion, and began rinsing a stack of dishes. "Damn, really? Couldn't think of a just slightly more calculated lie?"
His eyes widened in response as he began to babble. "I'm not lying! No, no, I—I can't, I mean, like, I gotta uh—I have something to do. Tonight. After this."
"What? You gotta hurry home and jerk off or something?"
"What—no! I didn't—I—who said that? Dave? I'll fucking kill him. I don't even, like, do stuff like that!" he rambled defensively.
Snorting, you threw him a look, grabbed the plate he had stopped washing, and started doing it yourself. "You don't jerk off?" You barked out a laugh as the cogwheels in his head visibly malfunctioned. "Dude, come on!" you whined, stomping the ground like a displeased child. "I've been looking forward to getting shit-faced all day—don't let me drink all by myself. You can do 'stuff' another time."
The ambiguous moral compass thrusting him into the masked vigilante every night was being tested—he did really like you; you tolerated him a lot more than anyone else, laughed at his jokes (even when he did not mean to be funny), you were brutally honest - which quite frankly made his existence a whole lot easier - and he thought you were ridiculously hot.
"Okay, I'll get shit-faced with you."
An hour later, you were sitting in a booth in a bar down the street, strategically chosen to be close to your apartment in case Adrian turned out to be a shitty drinking partner.
Despite his initial hesitation, he was visibly exhilarated to spend time with you, going on and on with the oddest kind of questions as if your favorite color would somehow determine your entire personality. You had subconsciously assumed he did not have too many friends, and honestly; the recurring vague anecdotes he shared of his nameless 'top three best friends' did not convince you otherwise, so you assumed his zeal was the result of someone showing interest for once.
He was adamantly trying to convince you that teal should be your favorite color, a Google .png displaying a palette of various shades on his phone, eyes glistening with oppressed excitement, brows raised above the frame of his undeniably dorky glasses, expectantly watching you as his lips were pouting around the straw floating in the drink you had convinced him to try, and all you could do was laugh hysterically. It might be the rush of the first drink tickling through your veins, but you decided then that he was probably the unintentionally funniest dude you had ever met.
"Jesus Christ—a'ight, whatever, Chase," you grinned, shaking your head and leaning back in your seat before taking another sip.
Feeling the conversation had come to an end, Adrian slumped back, mimicking your behavior as he watched you scan the bar. You had conveniently seated yourself so that you had a perfect view of the place, eyeing every other customer like a predator choosing its prey. You were being subtle, of course, but to anyone paying enough attention, you assumed you looked exactly like a lecherous construction worker leering and cat-calling every other unsuspecting passerby. At least you were not being audibly offensive to anyone in the bar, but then again, it did not look like a place where a lot of handsome guys would spend their boys' night.
"Who are we looking for?" Adrian was, of course, attentive to your lurking demeanor.
Sighing, you leaned forward on your elbows, perching your chin against the palm of your hand. "No one," you shrugged, taking another sip.
Adrian frowned before his eyes shot open, the thought occurring in such a comical way that a light bulb might as well have been lit overhead. "Oh! Are we looking at hotties?"
Surprised by how quickly he caught on, your eyes widened, and you nearly choked on your drink at his blatant disregard for the people within earshot. "Shut the fuck up, Adrian!" you hissed lowly, kicking his shin under the table.
Wincing, he instinctively retracted his legs further away from yours. "Fuck! You kicked me!"
Rolling your eyes, you leaned closer, whispering through a giggle. "Well, don't be fucking obvious."
"Well, maybe if you don't want me to react to getting fucking maimed, maybe you should warn—ohh..." he realized. "I didn't realize our girls' night would be eye-fucking dudes—I mean, I guess that one over there's kind of hot."
Following his gaze and painfully indiscreet pointing, you grimaced. "No fucking way I'm gonna ride a dude wearing a Hot Wheels Monster Trucks Live 2024 merch t-shirt." Leaning back, you narrowed your eyes at Adrian. "Unless, of course, you were thinking you and him?"
He made a 'pfft' sound and waved dismissively, matching your nonchalant posture. "Oh God, no. Totally ew, I'd never fuck a guy with a buzz-cut—looks like a Soviet Union deserter, am I right?" he laughed obnoxiously loud, excitedly nodding as if encouraging you to laugh along.
Honestly, it was difficult not to laugh at his behavior. Once you caught your breath and the heat in your face subsided, you groaned as if in excruciating pain. "Shit, I'm literally so desperate to get laid I might actually booty call my ex and he's a fucking dickhead."
Then Adrian shrugged like he was not about to say the most out of pocket thing yet: "I can fuck you."
This time you did actually choke on your drink.
Eyes widening, your face flushed red as you coughed uncontrollably. Adrian hurriedly scurried to his feet, saying something about doing the Heimlich maneuver, to which you vehemently shook your head. Still sporting a worried expression, he sat back down as you tried to regain your breath.
"The fuck did you just say?!" you snapped, face contorted as you tried to figure out how the fuck to respond to that kind of offer.
And he was just sitting there, brows raised and expression seemingly confused, like he had in fact just offered something friends regularly did, eyes unsure with an insecurity that suggested you had reacted harshly in response to his wildly inappropriate suggestion. "Or like eat you out, if you want."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"I've been told like, a lot of things, but I've learned to accept myself for who I am," he nods proudly.
All you could really do at this point was just blink at him, jaw slack, mouth agape, wondering if he was fucking with you or truly possessed zero situational awareness. As he waited expectantly with a kind of puppy-eyed expression, you concluded the latter was the more realistic of the two.
"Fucking hell, you can't just say shit like that, dude." You sighed heavily, feeling like he had literally sucked the energy out of you. The realization seemed to settle as his face fell, lips forming an 'o' like he mentally had to step back from reality to compute. "You know, to begin with, I thought you just had a sick sense of humor, but you literally don't even realize the fucked up things you're saying, do you? Don't you—I don't know... feel some things are better left unsaid?"
"I don't really like feel like other people do."
Frowning, you crossed your arms. "Okay, I know you're shit at reading faces and generally just the room, but like that's usually fun—but, dude, saying shit like that is gonna get you in trouble sometime."
"Huh," was all that left him before he mutedly mouthed the words like he had to taste them to comprehend what you were saying.
It felt fair to assume he had some kind of diagnoses in his backpack, but it somehow made you feel uncomfortable to explicitly inquire despite him evidently not grasping the notion of boundaries. "You..." you started awkwardly, struggling to find the words. "You really don't—like there's no like voice in your head or like any indicators that suggest to you maybe it's okay to shut the fuck up?"
"No," he admitted bluntly, though a feeling suddenly stirred and he felt compelled to share it the following second. "I mean, I guess my dick got a little hard when you mentioned riding the Hot Wheels, but really that's on you for putting that in my head."
"Fucking hell, Chase."
Suddenly, he shot forward in his seat. "Also, when you call me by my last name—" he held out his arm, an excited expression twisting his face. "Goosebumps!"
You shushed him and pressed your face into your palms, rubbing your temple soothingly. The people in the booth behind you had quietened, and you really could not blame them for being curious as to what the fuck was going on. Frankly, you were not quite sure either.
A shiver tingled down your spine as the image of Adrian's cock invaded your mind—did he get hard just imagining you having sex? You had never thought of fucking him, but now you could not help but picture it, wondering how he would be. He was way too awkward to make you believe it would be a smooth act, probably a lot of stumbling and bumping heads, but you would be lying if you said he was not a little handsome. Granted, dorky in every way, but his frame was tall and lean, broad chest and nice shoulders to carry himself with, and you cursed at yourself as you wondered what he might look like under his clothes.
Groaning at your own thought process, you shifted uncomfortably, moving your eyes back out to the customers in the bar. No one to drool over.
You should probably just leave—it seemed tonight was not the night for you to get lucky. Unless...
Your eyes moved back to Adrian—no.
Bad idea.
Right?
He was just sitting there with expectant eyes, a big goofy-ass smile, arm still out like he was waiting for you to feel his goosebumps.
"Dude, put it away. I'm not gonna touch your fucking arm," you deadpanned.
But you ended up doing a whole lot more. You were embarrassed to admit that it did not even take another drink before deciding Adrian was an option.
So after finding out that he was dead serious about wanting to have sex with you, you took him back to your apartment, thinking, 'what's the worst that could happen?'
Despite his generally odd behavior and your limited knowledge of him outside of work, you felt relatively safe inviting him into your home. Even if doing so turned out to be regrettable the second you stepped inside, you figured you would not have any qualms getting rid of him—he was way too complaisant to do otherwise if you simply told him to leave.
Adrian did not hesitate to tell you how hot he thought you were, to which you could only really mutter 'uh-huh' while leading him inside. You had never fucked a guy who was so outspoken, and you really could not help but wonder if that was good or bad. You figured everything from getting laid to throwing him out would be a lot easier with someone as blunt as him, no hidden motives or suppressed feelings not allowed to see the light of day, but as you realized what you were doing, a pang of guilt settled in your chest.
Turning to him, you exhaled a slightly ragged breath as he took in his surroundings, seemingly enchanted to find out how you lived. "Am I taking advantage of you?" you wondered aloud.
Adrian seemed to think for a moment before shrugging. "I don't mind."
He said it was his casual attitude that turned you off, his ‘use me’ vibe ruined by how obviously eager he was to fuck.
"You've done this before, right?" you hesitated awkwardly, brows furrowing, taken aback by his blatancy.
"Done what?" he quipped curiously.
You could not stop the amused snort escaping you. "A one-night stand."
"Oh! Duh—only like a shit ton of times," he laughed.
Your eyebrow heaved. "Just one-night stands?" you teased, leaning back against your kitchen counter.
Unsurprisingly, he failed to catch the jest and responded a bit too honestly. "Well, yeah—chicks think I'm a lot," he nodded proudly.
"I bet," you grimaced, doubting he had interpreted their feelings correctly. Pushing off the counter, you moved for the fridge. "You want anything to drink?"
"No," Adrian responded and moved into the kitchen, leaving only a few feet between you. "Can I eat you out? I wanna taste your pussy."
Your eyes widened, though you could not help but chuckle. "Christ, Chase—right to it then?"
He nodded enthusiastically, his ears turning red in the dim lighting. "Please."
Regarding how his cheeks pinkened and Adam's apple bounced in his throat, you realized he was probably as nervous as he was excited. You could not deny that he was handsome in that incredibly dorky way, but you seriously doubted he got a whole lot of skin-on-skin action. You surmised girls would often flee at the first opening when he said some weird.
"Fuck it—yeah, c'mon," you shrugged and turned on your heel, heading for your bedroom.
Adrian followed closely behind you, reminding you of an obedient little puppy, practically lost without you, always awaiting your next command. You chuckled to yourself as it occurred to you that that was pretty much exactly what he was, clueless as to how to act when not being ordered around.
It turned you on to think he would enjoy being used like that, like a little boy toy here for your pleasure.
Surprisingly, he did not wait for further instruction—you had given him the 'go', so once in your bedroom, Adrian did not hesitate to strip you out of your jeans, pulling them down with a rough tug along with your panties.
He did not even notice your stupefied expression before diving between your legs, hungry tongue darting out to lick a long flat stripe through your folds. Humming, your friend was pleased to find your slick juices easily coating his eager muscle, the internal ego stroke praising him from the back of his mind.
The wanton moan that left you was cut off by another swipe of his tongue, the sensation pleasuring you while simultaneously punching the air out of your lungs. "Ha—holy shit, Adrian!"
A low hum reverberated through your folds, making your hole clench around nothing and clit pulse with anticipation—you tried to convince yourself it was more the thought of getting laid after so long that made you wet and eager, because how in the world could a dork as big as Adrian fucking Chase have you dripping so easily?
Biting down on your lip, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, focusing on the sensation throbbing between your legs.
His large, clammy hands palmed against your thighs, massaging the flesh in tandem with his tongue dipping into your pussy.
"Fuck, you taste so sweet, like candy," he mused against you, words muffled but unstoppable like he needed to say it aloud. "I have dreamt of this so many fucking times, like—you have no idea. You've dreamt of me, too?"
Your scoff contorted into a gasp as his lips wrapped around your clit, glasses bumping further down the bridge of his nose. "N-no," you muttered honestly.
He hummed against you, suckling the pulsating bundle of nerves before continuing to nonchalantly speak like it was pillow talk. "That's okay. You will," he grinned to himself, and the vibrations made you inhale sharply.
You back arched against the mattress, and your hands combed through his hair, tightening as you forced his mouth to work on you. "Shut up, Adrian."
Thankfully, he did and diverted his focus to the task at hand. A breathy moan fell from your lips as his heavenly tongue hungrily fucked your hole, the groans escaping him spurring you on, making you grind your hips against his mouth. His expertise surprised you, definitely not having expected him, of all men, to be skillful with his mouth, but as he licked into your needy cave, there was no denying the pleasure he offered.
The coil in your belly tightened as he worked you closer, plump lips moving to circle your hooded pearl as his tongue deftly flicked against it.
"Oh! Oh—my God—you... Use your fingers."
Adrian obeyed dutifully, inserting two digits without hesitation, easily sliding them inside your welcoming cunt, and another lewd moan clawed its way out from your throat.
"Holy fuck, that's good," you praised his efforts, gasping as he scissored against your walls.
Over your echoing moans, you could hear the obscene squelches of your slick. Adrian seemed insatiable as he drank the sounds down, focused on slurping everything you granted him like he was afraid you might shove him off at any moment.
Your legs began to tremble as you neared your orgasm. Adrian felt your velvety walls tighten around his fingers, and he manhandled your thighs over his shoulders, tactically positioning himself impossibly closer to not let a drop go to waste.
"Don't stop, don't stop, don't sto—f-fuck!" you cried out, fingers carded into his curls and tightening as you came into his mouth.
Adrian moaned at the taste, devotedly lapping up your creamy slick like a drink promising eternal life. His fingers continued curling against your spongy walls, prolonging the wave of ecstasy until you writhed from overstimulation.
Breathing raggedly, he reluctantly let you go, allowing you to catch your breath, though his ridiculously large hands remained on your thighs.
When you finally looked down, you could not help but chuckle breathlessly at the sight of his fogged glasses and sparkling chin as he looked up expectantly, the layer of raw lust still lingering in his irises—messy eater, you thought.
Yeah, this was probably going to be a regular occurrence.
