Work Text:
You first catch his eyes watching you while you’re searching for a new HDMI cable, his neck stretching, head peering from above the metal rack.
He’s leaning on the door frame leading to the back of the shop, a balding man speaking to him in a language you don’t understand. He’s absently nodding, evidently distracted by your presence. He has a baby blue shirt with a floral pattern that matches the one of the other man, they almost look like a couple.
You are tempted to tease him about it only to have an excuse to approach him, but you guess your blush would be too much of a dead giveaway. You decide to leave his shop with the cheapest HDMI cable he has available, flashing him a grin through the big glass windows as you stroll away.
You visit the shop frequently, pretending to look the products while your eyes are seeking for something –someone– else.
You don’t always see him, but when you do is always the highlight of your day. He hovers around like a vulture, no doubt in your mind that he notices you, his eyes are hard to miss when they land on you and perk up with interest. Other than that, he keeps a distance. The most meaningful contact between you happens one day, when he crosses your path at the door, opening it for you with a bright smile, daring a wink, never breaking eye contact.
Your new hobby is costing you a fortune, and you are running out of friends that could use an extra HDMI cable in their household. By the time you’re the proud owner of four cables, two pairs of headphones and a one dollar torchlight, he finally decides to approach you.
You hear the tingling of his tacky chains before you notice him nearing you with confident strides.
He stands beside you, taller than you imagined, close enough for the smell of his aftershave to hit you. He used too much, it stings your nose and makes your eyes water. You stifle a giggle thinking he did it to impress you, what a sweetheart. You are still the one that has to initiate the conversation, your hand idly scrolling between HDMIcables, pretending to check the prices you know by heart.
“Nice shirt.” you say, eyeing the gray button down.
His collar is open, showing his low-neck white sweatshirt, his chest hair are as dark as his beard, peeking throughit proudly, like he’s exposing them just for you. You swallow, forcing your eyes back on the shelf.
He makes an amused hum, fixing a tilted price tag he has been pretending to care about.
“Thank you.”
You smile at the sound of his voice, he has a thick accent from somewhere you couldn’t place on a map. You find it unfairly charming.
“How many of these cables do your TV need?” he teases, confirming he had been noticing you buzzing around.
You bend to check the lower shelves, “Only one.”
The corner of your lips tugs into a smirk when you catchhim leaning backto get a good look at your ass. You reach for the last shelf, pick the priciest brand he got and rise up, back arching.
You gawk at him, feigning an innocence that’s a mockery to innocence itself.
“But I don’t know much about electronics, and I can’t really find the right fit for my port.” you sigh.
Your words give him pause, make his polite smile falter. His jaw sets, teeth grinding. He’s not shy when he looks at your mouth, nor when he shifts on his feet, eyes flicking down to the front of his pants to check.
He swallows before speaking, voice low and rough, “Maybe I can help you.”
You smile, “I’d love that.”
It doesn’t take you long to get to know each other. And for ‘know each other’ you mean fuck in his office during closing hours.
He’s a rough lover but you don’t complain. You wouldn’t want anything less, in fact, spurring him on with endless strings of praises, grinning when your molten moans turn him feral.
It’s not what you would call a real relationship and really you don’t want it to be.
You’re completely done with real relationships anyway, too demanding and way too painful. You’re just scratching each other itches, and by God is he good at scratching yours.
Your presence in the back rooms becomes a staple, to the point that you even know some of the clerks by name. The balding dude you saw with Solomon the first time turns out to be his right hand man. He never quite warms up to you, casting dubious and sometimes even annoyed glares at you.
When you ask Solomon he waves away the subject in a way that makes you a bit more than suspicious.
You hide behind a corner one day to hear the bald man and Solomon argue about you. You don’t understand what they’re saying, but the sound of your name comes back into the heated conversation from time to time.
The fact that you had never seen Solomon’s house, that he insisted fervently on seeing you in his workplace, combined with that conversation, made the answer to your doubts pretty clear.
When you go to him the next day, you decide to use the worst moment possible to break the news to him.
“What’s your wife’s name?” you moan seconds before an orgasm. His thumbs digging harder into your hips when you do.
Solomon flinches, his whole body freezing.
He lowers his gazeto you, spread on his desk and half naked. He’s still hard inside of you, throbs when you flash him a lazy smirk. He blinks, swallows too many times, silently gives you all the answers you need.
When he speaks his voice is almost hysterical, “What a fucking question is that?”
“It’s just a question.” you shrug one shoulder.
His hands leave you, gesture nervously at your face. Menacing brows loweringand on his eyes.“Yeah, in the middle of fucking you you ask me–”
He makes to pull out but your legs are quick as snakes, circling his hips into a vice grip. You plant your palms on the desk and rise face level with his. He splutters something you can’t make out, his protests quickly turning into a groan when you sink your hips forward and take him to the hilt.
He screws his eyes shut, slamming a hand on the desk for support. He pants, looksup at you with big brown eyes and knitted eyebrows. He’s confused,as if expecting a whole different reaction, he looks so innocent it’s almost unfair.
His eyes flutter down when you roll your hips into him, pulling away from his length until only the tip is in. He makes a longing grunt in the back of his throat, and you open your mouth into a toothy grin.
“You didn’t answer.” you tut, swiping your noses together.
He looks at you, a beautiful mix of lust and frustration that makes your inner walls quiver.
“Eleni.” he mutters.
“That’s a cute name…” you hum, slowly sink back on his length, his jaw goes slack. You continue, voice sweet as honey, “Does she fuck as good as me?”
He grunts, head falling forward to bury in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the most tender he’s ever been since you met him. You sigh despite yourself, despite knowing the bastard isexpecting that to be his half-assed apology. You let him do it regardless, stroking your cheek on his head, pretending to have pity on his shame.
When his mouth moves lower to your collarbone and his hips dare to thrust back, you decide it’s time for him to give you a proper answer. You reach up, seize his head and shove it back. You pant on his face, aroused by how helplessly he looks at you.
You scratch your nailsoverthe stubble on hischeeks. “Does she?”
He glares at you with half lidded eyes, nostrils flaring.
“No.”
You whine, kiss him like he just saved you. His hands come back to life, seizing your hips as he slams his cock into you, shoving you back downon the desk.
You reach for the edge of the table, gripping it to give yourself more leverage. Your arm catching his landlinein the process, knocking it to the floor with a loud rattle. He doesn’t seem to care.
The table under you creaks and groans as he fucks you, ravages your neck with bites and licks, hands reaching up to squeeze your breasts. You arch your back in bliss, heels locking behind his hips, pushing him to go even faster.
He talks in your ear, makes a point to say your name, over and over, as to assure you he knows who he’s fucking.
“Keep going.” you demand in a haze, one hand reaching into his hair to haul up his head and see his face.
He whines when he meets your eyes, struggles to keep his own open for you. He obeys you without flinching, repeats your name like a chant, each time rougher than the other. His nails bite into the skin of your waist as he clutches at you for dear life.
You roll your hips into his, tug harder at his hair as to guide him.
He plants his palms on the desk to get a better angle and rams into you, your name melting into a grunt.
There’s no warning for your orgasm, it just happens, rising like a tidal wave and crashing over you. Your legs quake around his hips as his thrusts stutter. Your desperate whine of his name is what tips him over the edge just seconds later, tearing a long moan out of him.
There’s just one peaceful moment of blissful silence, one second to bask in your shared afterglow, before all hell breaks loose
The door creaks open before either of you had the time to catch your breath.
The shriek that comes from the threshold almost split your head in two. It’s certainly not welcome, but you can find yourself to bee too bothered. You don’t even look back at Eleni when she stomps away.
Solomon pulls out of you with a curse, hands flying down to his pants. He fidgets with the fly as he stumbles, trying to simultaneously run to the door and pull his pants up.
You smirk.
He calls behind his wife for a while, his voice fading behind slamming doors. When he’s back, less than ten seconds later, he shouts at someone else. The voice of the clerks cut in, apologizing as they try to placate his rising fury. They’re muttering something about not being able to warn him, his line being down.
You look up at the landline you smashed on the floor, your smirk turning into a chuckle. You can’t find enough of a motivation to stop laughing, not even when he comes back into his office, slams the door shut and bury his face into his hands with a roar.
You roll on your stomach, elbows on the desk. He catches your smile and glares at you.
“You called her.” he says, not even bothering to ask.
You shrug.
“You’re fucking insane!” he hisses at you, voice straining around the words.
You tilt your head, eyes squinting, “You’re angry.”
He opens his mouth to talk, so outragedno sound comes out.
Only when you turn on your back and sit on the edge, he finally find the nerve to speak up.
“Of course I’m angry! I’m fucking angry! Do you know what you did?! You just–”
His voice carries on ranting as you drop off the desk, the dress he bunched on your waist falling back down your legs. You adjust the straps, covering your chest, smoothingthe fabricon your body.
You didn’t have panties when you came in, so you don’t even bother looking for them when you saunter towards him.
He is still ranting, face red.
You grab his tacky chain and drag him down, your noses almost touching. He stops speaking immediately. Anything he had to say going down his throat when he gulps.
He’s still furious, the vein at his temple close to bursting.
“I like it when you’re angry.” you whisper, kissing his nose tenderly.
His jaw relaxes, eyes darting down to your toothy smile.
“Keep this anger.” you tut, giving him a quick peck on the lips, “We can put it to good use next time.” your voice is sultry, your intentions unmistakable.
Solomon gulps, doesn’t answer.
He can barely find the strength to go back to his full height when you release him and saunter out of the room with a friendly wave.
“See you next Monday!”