Working the day shift at an adult store wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, if Derek was perfectly honest with himself. He spent most of his mornings restocking shelves, checking prices, and tuning his Pandora playlists to his liking.
There was a buzzer that went off whenever someone wanted to enter the store. Everyone had to be ID’ed before coming in because, by law, the store was eighteen and up. Derek had to stop stocking the shelves, he had a box of vibrators he was hanging up, in order to let someone in. Derek hopped behind the counter instead of using the swinging door, which was on the other side of the room, sliding across it and landing with a thump in front of the plexiglass window that separated them like a movie theatre box office.
“ID,” Derek said with a sigh, his hand out, waiting for it.
“Uh, sure,” the guy -- no, the kid said from the other side of the window. Derek straightened his glasses as he looked him over. Obviously high school, with a comic book shirt -- Green Lantern, nice choice -- and a plaid over shirt, along with a hoodie, and Converse. Typical. The kid had a buzz cut, which made him look barely old enough to drive. Derek held back a laugh as he watched him struggle to get his driver’s license out of his wallet in order to hand it over.
There was no way Derek was letting the kid get in with a fake ID. None. When he finally slid his ID towards Derek, he looked up at him, his eyes going wide for a second. Derek arched an eyebrow, but said nothing as he looked down at the ID. It didn’t look fake, had the right holographics and it was obviously the same kid. Derek looked him over one more time, his eyes narrowing as he thought maybe it was an older brother’s ID or something. His brow furrowed when he chanced a glance at the name.
“How long does this usually take?” The kid asked, his voice deeper than Derek thought it would be. Derek snorted, handing the ID back to him.
“Happy Birthday,” Derek said as he hit the buzzer, unlocking the door for whatever-the-fuck his name is, shit could not be said out loud in the English language. Surprisingly, What’s His Name grinned at him, his brown-eyed gaze not leaving Derek’s for a moment.
“Thanks,” he said before he opened the door, stepping inside the store. There were a few people milling about, a homeless guy that liked perusing the DVD selection, a soccer mom who seemed to be undecided on which Bullet to purchase, and Derek’s Tuesday regular, George.
Derek decided to walk around the counter this time, instead of jumping over it as he made his way back to restocking. Derek’s situational awareness of the customers was pretty spot-on. The soccer mom caved and left without buying the Bullet she had in her hand for about three minutes, obviously wavering between her own pleasure and thinking about her husband, since she worried at her wedding ring as soon as she put it down -- in the wrong fucking spot.
George loitered, but Derek knew he would, as did the homeless man. Derek didn’t care if people stuck around, especially on a cooler day, it wasn’t like he had something else to do.
What’s His Name, though, walked around the entire store three times before Derek sighed, putting the empty box down on the counter before walking up to him as he worried at his bottom lip.
“Can I help you with something?” Derek asked as he slid his hands into his back pockets, attempting to give the kid a helpful expression. Wide-eyed, he shook his head, then wavered.
“It’s pretty TMI,” he said, his eyes casting across the aisle of lubricating options. Derek tried not to laugh as he nodded his head.
“Shoot,” he said with a shrug. He had no one else to talk to, might as well see if he could help the kid.
“How the fuck am I supposed to pick which one of these to use? It’s like picking a toothpaste. They all say the same damn thing--”
“What are you using it for?” Derek asked. He got a gaping mouth in reply, which, wow, that mouth opened wide. Derek shook his head, looking away towards the options before them. “It depends on what you’re using it for.”
“Well, that’s the thing--”
“Are you using lotion?” Derek asked incredulously. He remembered being that young, using lotion instead of lube because what teen wants to tell their mom they need it.
“Uh, KY?” he said.
Derek smiled, rolling his eyes as he handed over a bottle labelled SILK.
“This is better,” Derek said, about to turn away.
“Does it work for anal, too?”
Derek stopped where he was, looking the kid up and down one more time. He hadn’t expected that-- but you can never tell, really.
“Depends on what you’re doing,” Derek said truthfully. “It’s a good product, I use it, but not for anal play, unless it’s just fingers, for toys I’d suggest--” Derek stopped talking when he saw the look the kid was giving him. “What?”
“Um, fingers is what I meant.”
Derek gave him a smile, nodding his head.
“Use that, then. It will change your world.”
“I’m sure,” he laughed.
“Is that all you wanted to get?” Derek asked him. “I can check you out if you’re ready.” What’s His Name visibly swallowed, which distracted Derek for a moment, as he looked around the store.
“I don’t know what half of this stuff his for. I mean, porn, yeah, I get... but what exactly is a Tenga Cup?”
“It’s basically... a toy that you stick your dick in and it feels like you’re getting deep throated.”
“Jesus,” he said, looking back towards where Derek knew they kept them. “Is it like a Fleshlight?”
“Not quite,” Derek said with a wry smile. “It has suction, it isn’t something to fuck into.”
“Ah,” he said, swallowing again when his voice caught in his throat. “I think I might--”
“You should,” Derek said, nodding his head as he walked over to the very thing they discussed. He tossed it to the kid. “You won’t regret it.”
“Do you have one?” he asked. Derek almost told him that was a little personal, but he couldn’t fault him for asking.
“Nah,” Derek said with ease. “But it’s rated pretty damn well on Amazon.”
“Huh,” he said as he examined the box. “Okay.”
“You ready?” Derek asked as he shoved his hand in his back pocket again. What’s His Name’s gaze was on his arm, which wasn’t surprising considering that there was a full tattoo sleeve on it, along with another half one on his other arm. They distracted people easily, and Derek was used to it. Derek snapped his fingers, bringing attention back to him. He leaned forward a bit, the corner of his mouth lifting as his eyes met What’s His Name’s. “You want to look around some more?”
“I think I’m good,” he said as he followed Derek to the counter. Derek rang the items up, then put them in a brown paper bag.
“Totally doesn’t look suspicious at all,” he laughed as he handed Derek wadded up bills to pay with.
“Want me to put it in a clear bag for you?” Derek asked, teasing him. The way that the kid’s cheeks reddened had Derek coughing back his reaction as blood flowed down between his legs. His cheeks were splotchy, red only below the cheekbone. That, paired with how red his lips were from biting them, had Derek’s mind heading straight for the gutter. “How do you say your name?” Derek asked as he handed him back the change.
“Just call me Stiles,” he said with a small smile. “It’s easier that way.” Derek nodded, knowing that he probably wouldn’t see him again, or that he wouldn’t remember if he did.
“Have fun, Stiles,” Derek said, grabbing the empty box as Stiles walked out with his new toy.
Derek definitely remembered Stiles when he showed up again two weeks later. It was nighttime, busier than during the day, and Derek was manning the door and cash register as Erica, the other employee on duty, helped out on the floor. Currently, she leaned against the counter, bored despite the fact they had eleven people roaming around.
“ID,” Derek said, because he had to, even though he knew exactly who Stiles was. He wore a Batman shirt, along with a different plaid shirt on top of it this time. Stiles handed it over easily, taking it out of his back pocket. “Had it ready?” Derek asked with a smirk.
“Yeah,” Stiles said, avoiding Derek’s gaze. Derek lifted an eyebrow but said nothing as he slid the ID back, then buzzed him in.
“Let me know if you have any questions,” Derek called out. Erica gave him a look because he never said that. Derek shrugged, then spun around on the sole barstool they had, in order to change the Pandora station.
Stiles disappeared into the store as Derek spun around in the chair, tilting his head back as he waited for someone to check out. Erica slid over, her eyes narrow as she looked at him.
“What?” Derek asked, his tone put-upon.
“What was that about?” Erica asked, as she motioned towards Stiles. Derek sighed audibly, his eyes rolling as he turned towards her, his hands in his lap.
“What was what about, Erica?”
“The twink,” Erica said with a grin. Derek stood up, plastering on a fake smile as a customer came up with, wow, seven DVDs. Derek didn’t judge, but why buy DVDs when there was the internet? Derek gave Erica a look, trying to tell her telepathically that she should do her fucking job, as he rang up the total for the pile o’porn.
When Derek was done, he looked around the store for Erica and for Stiles. He craned his neck until he saw them, together, in the corner, near the dildos. Oh, hell no, Erica wasn’t going to--
Derek left the counter behind, walking up to them.
“Erica, you’re on phone duty.”
“Bullshit,” she said, her arms crossing. “You are.”
“Who’s the assistant manager?”
“Your mom’s chest hair,” Erica said before she stalked off towards the counter, leaving Derek and Stiles alone. Stiles, again, wasn’t looking at Derek. Maybe he would rather talk to Erica, after all.
“Do you want to talk with Erica?” Derek asked him.
Stiles shook his head, his eyes finally meeting Derek’s.
“No, I’d rather talk to you.”
“What about?” Derek asked, taking a step closer. Stiles shrugged as he shoved his hands into his front pockets.
“Well, for starters, that lube is phenomenal.”
Derek smirked at him. “Miles better than lotion.”
“And KY,” Stiles said as he licked his lips.
“I see you’re perusing the anal toys, having some second thoughts about only fingers?” Derek asked, way too casually considering the topic of conversation. Stiles covered his mouth, probably to hide a smile, but Derek didn’t care. He was too used to talking about sex to be bothered by it.
“Yeah,” Stiles said, his voice lower than it had been two moments ago. Derek couldn’t help but smile at him, really, because of how flustered he seemed to be.
“What did you have in mind?” Derek asked simply. Stiles gestured to the dildos he was standing by. “Ah.”
“Yeah,” Stiles said, laughing as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“Have you ever--”
“No,” Stiles said, cutting Derek off. “I mean, yes? But the one I got was way too big, like I couldn’t even-- it hurt and I read that it really shouldn’t with proper prep so that’s why I’m here? I mean, I’ve used my fingers, you know? But they cramp? And the angle is weird,” Stiles said, using hand gestures, which wow, that needed to stop. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, okay,” Derek said, taking another step closer, putting a hand on Stiles’ back, patting it before turning him towards the merchandise. “First, you have to clean up, so we’ll get you a kit.”
“Really? For like, myself?” Stiles asked, clearly perplexed.
Derek raised his eyebrows, then nodded his head slowly.
“Yeah, really. So I’ll set you up, it’ll be fine.”
Derek really didn’t have time for this, really, he didn’t, but Stiles’ genuine inquiries intrigued him a little more than he knew it should.
“Do you know what size you started with?” Derek asked.
“Nine inch,” Stiles said with an uneasy smile. Derek blanched. No wonder, poor kid. Going from awkward fingering to a nine-inch dildo, which was pretty fucking thick--
Derek shook his head.
“Right,” Derek said, trying for reassuring. Stiles looked at Derek’s arms again, this time lingering on the intricate details. Derek let him.
“Do you think I should get something with like, a suction cup on it? Would that help? Because the one I bought is like, rubbery and flops around a lot. Should I use plastic or silicone? Would the suction cup like, look weird? Not that it matters how it looks because I’d just be by myself but I mean, does it look weird?” Stiles asked, taking a breath afterwards from rambling. Derek was about to answer when he heard a whistle coming from the front desk.
“Derek! A little help here,” Erica called out across the store. Derek lifted his head, from where he had been watching Stiles articulate his questions with his hands, to see Erica inundated with customers. He sighed, turning back towards Stiles.
“Start small,” Derek said with a grin before walking away from him. “I’m serious,” he called out over his shoulder.
By the time Stiles came up to the line, some twenty minutes later, Erica almost checked him out. With one look from Derek, though, she backed off. The store was still busy, and with the two of them behind the counter, that meant no one was out on the floor. Erica went, but not without flipping her hair defiantly.
This time, Stiles paid with a debit card.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?” Derek asked with a quirk of his lips. Stiles smiled as he bit his lip, nodding his head.
“I think so,” he whispered. Derek appraised his choices. He made a gesture at the three-set of butt plugs in varying sizes.
“Ambitious,” Derek said.
“Price made more sense than buying them separate,” Stiles said as he coughed, looking away from Derek. “Obviously, I’m starting small.”
“Obviously,” Derek said, trying to keep his voice even so he didn’t give away the fact that all he could picture was Stiles bent over with the plug up his ass, showing it off for him. He also bought a dildo, thankfully a normal-sized one instead of one of the massive monster cocks that Derek saw him eyeing earlier.
What a fucking image that was.
After Derek watched Stiles leave, he avoided Erica’s gaze. He didn’t want to see her judgemental face, because he was reprimanding himself enough for the both of them. Barely eighteen, Derek was almost ten years older than him. Almost being the key word.
Derek worked two jobs. He worked days at the store, where he was assistant manager, with the odd night shift once or twice a week which was usually a double. He worked part-time at a local gallery, where three of his pieces hung on display. He liked working there, mostly because it was also an art studio on the second floor where different artists could rent out space. Derek, since he worked at the gallery, got a reduced rate for his space, practically a steal considering he got first dibs and picked the area nearest the window.
He worked with mostly charcoals, but he sometimes dabbled with mixed media, which were the pieces that hung in the gallery itself. Next door to the gallery was a coffee house, also locally owned, that attached to the gallery so there was a lot of foot traffic, even at night.
With a fresh cup of coffee, Derek made himself comfortable for the evening behind the front desk of the gallery. It was set up with a desk, a little lower than the counter itself, so he could draw. Almost everyone that worked at the gallery was an artist, most of them also renting the space upstairs as well, so the fact that there was a desk made especially for them to work during their shifts meant a lot to Derek.
He sketched for a while, readying a new tattoo design to bring his unfinished sleeve to his elbow, as people walked in and out of the gallery.
“Are you stalking me?” Someone asked, bringing Derek out of his zone, his pencil stilling over the sketchbook. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he looked up to see Stiles standing there with an iced coffee in his hand, the straw in his mouth, and an incredulous look that Derek was pretty sure would be able to make him come in the shower later when he thought about this moment.
“I think I should be asking you that,” Derek said, his tone completely dry as he leaned over his sketchbook, hiding it from Stiles’ view because he extended his neck attempting to look. Derek shut it, sliding it away from himself as he tapped the pencil against the desk, leaning on it. “Are you stalking me, Stiles?”
“What? Nope,” Stiles said, popping the ‘p’ with his lips as he looked around, pointing at two people who were walking around the gallery hand in hand. “I’m here as the official third wheel.”
Derek fought back the smile that wanted to emerge. Stiles dropped his hand, taking a long sip of his coffee, making a noise with the straw because the drink was almost gone. Stiles shook the drink and sighed, leaning against the counter like they were friends.
Derek pushed himself away, putting distance between the two of them. Stiles was a customer, a young one at that, and jack-off fantasy or not, Derek had no intentions of stepping over the invisible line.
“How late is this place open?” Stiles asked him.
“Depends, usually half hour before the coffee shop closes,” Derek said shuffling papers around for no reason. He glanced towards Stiles’ friends, who seemed to be lost in their own world, then back to Stiles. “So in about an hour.”
“Ugh,” Stiles said, his head tilting back to reveal the long expanse of his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he complained with a groan. “This is killing me.”
“Bored?” Derek found himself asking.
“So bored, they said it was like, a friend thing, they aren’t dating,” Stiles said, waving a hand at his friends dismissively. “Scott was all ‘come on dude, please’ and ‘it’s not a date I swear’, but obviously--”
“Do you like art?” Derek asked, taking Stiles’ mind off Scott. Stiles shrugged as he shoved his free hand into his hoodie pocket. He chewed on the straw, which distracted Derek, but he caught himself before he stared too long.
“I mean, it’s cool?”
“You could take a look around,” Derek suggested.
“I’d rather talk to you,” Stiles said as he looked towards the door. Derek knew right then that he was fucked, literally.
“Me? Why?” Derek asked as he scratched at his week’s worth of stubble. Again, Stiles shrugged.
“You’re really easy to talk to, so hey can I ask you stuff here?” Stiles asked. “Like, about--”
“Sure,” Derek said, his voice lower. “But voices echo in here, so try not to shout about it,” he said, gesturing for Stiles to walk around to the back of the counter. There were two stools to sit at, and against Derek’s better judgement he indicated for Stiles to take one. Stiles scrambled around to a stool, sitting on it with a smile on his face.
“Awesome. Great. Okay, so, question: do you think if I got a double-ended dildo it would be easier to like, hold onto?” Stiles asked, his teeth gnawing on that damned straw still. Derek blinked slowly, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Stiles just asked him that.
“Well, I guess it would be easier--”
“Because I am really like, lanky? And not very flexible. Should I do yoga?”
“If you want,” Derek said, his mind filling with all sorts of images that were making it hard for him to concentrate. He stalled by taking a sip of his forgotten coffee.
“I googled different, like, fingering techniques, and one blog said that I should use a vibrator, but I thought those were for girls mostly? Have you ever used one?” Stiles asked, his face completely serious. Derek scoffed as he exhaled, looking around the mostly empty gallery. Stiles’ friends were gone, probably found the supply closet to make out in. Derek ran his hand over his face as he looked towards the ceiling.
“Yeah, I've used one, and with lube it helps stretch.”
Stiles beamed at him, his shoulders relaxing.
“Thanks, man. Seriously. Sometimes the internet lies.”
Derek laughed. “It does do that, yeah.”
“So about the vibrator, do they make super quiet ones? Because I don’t live alone, you know? And a dildo doesn’t make a noise.”
Derek licked his lips after he watched Stiles do the same thing. He sighed, because Stiles was in high school. This was so wrong on so many different levels.
“They have quiet ones, but they still make noise. If you’re concerned, I’d maybe stick to toys without batteries.”
Stiles chewed on his bottom lip as he nodded, taking Derek’s every word into consideration.
“You’re right. I mean, I’ve got stuff. I should just make do with what I have.”
“Do not use that nine-inch dildo,” Derek said, leaning forward with his hands on his thighs. “Until you can take that middle range plug, alright?” Stiles’ cheeks reddened as he nodded his head.
“Yeah, got it. Start small.”
“Exactly,” Derek said as Stiles’ friends came into view, leaning on each other. Stiles stood up, running his long, slender fingers over his buzzed hair, winking at Derek before meeting them by the door.
“See ya,” Stiles said with a wave.
All Derek could do in response was stare as Stiles walked out the door.
He was so fucked.