Work Text:
"Are you sure you don't need help carrying all that?" Garcello asked, watching with slight concern as you carried a monstrous pile of clothes up the stairs.
"Yep! I got it!" You assured from behind the pile.
Today was laundry day at the apartment complex and you and Garcello were carrying your clothes back upstairs. Unfortunately, the laundry room was at the bottom of the complex, and you two had the horrible misfortune of being at the very tippy-top of the building. As such, every laundry day was a test of endurance for you and your little arms to see if you could carry your clothes all the way back to your apartment without having to use the elevator. Even if the elevator made everything easier...
As you made your way to the next flight of stairs, one of your feet misstepped, nearly causing you to lose your balance as the tall pile of clothes leaned dangerously towards the railing.
"Oh shit-- Garcello, Garcello--"
"Yep, yep, I gotcha, little man." The smoker frantically nodded, helping you to keep the pile balanced. However, no amount of help could prevent one piece of clothing at the top from falling over and landing on the floor behind you two. Garcello lets out a sigh of relief, silently thanking whatever god out there as he went to pick up the garment. Then, the man pauses.
It's a single pair of maroon, lace panties.
Garcello realized that it shouldn't have been so important. Everyone wears undergarments. He has boxers and you have panties. But for some reason, this stopped him dead in his tracks. It hooked onto his thoughts, planting a seed of interest in his previous machinations. But this interest would have to wait as you suddenly got a notification on your phone.
"Ughhh, what now??" You groaned in annoyance. You carefully put down the pile of clothes, fishing out your phone from the back pocket of your sweatpants. It’s a text from your co-worker.
“Jesus fucking christ.” You quickly sighed, putting your clothes down on the stairs. “God I’m so sorry, 'Cello I gotta go to work.”
“Huh? How come, little man?”
“Apparently everyone’s ditched work to go watch the premiere of Baby Fighters 5.” You explained, grabbing your work clothes from the monstrous pile of clothes. “And now no one’s there to fight off the customers.”
“Oh.” Garcello didn’t even know there was a movie franchise called Baby Fighters, let alone five movies in the series. “Well, good luck fighting those karens.” The smoker saluted jokingly.
“Thanks dude. If I don’t come back just assume those blonde bitches have claimed my head as a trophy.” And with that, you rushed back down the stairs and zoomed out of the building.
And… Now what?
Garcello blankly gazed upon the clothes which surrounded him. This was a two person job, and now, the man was left to take all of them up himself. It was as if the piles of clothes were taunting him, sneering at the man to take a shot at it. Such a daunting task would require multiple trips to achieve and every ounce of strength the smoker could manifest from his mortal bod--
“Forget this, I'm taking the elevator.”
Nevermind he’s taking the elevator.
After a quick trip to the lobby to get a bellhop, he would roll the clothes over to the elevator and step inside. Garcello pressed the button that led to the top floor of the building labeled with the number eight. With a small ding, the elevator shut, beginning its slow journey up the complex. He always wondered why you just never used the elevator. Sure, it was kind of cramped. Sure, it was slow. Sure, it could take a long time, but it’s so much better than having to travel up eight flights of stairs to the apartment.
At the thought of you, his attention returned to the panties he saw earlier.
Garcello glanced over at the bellhop where the panties were. It sat right on top of the pile. Even if it was inanimate, it felt like the clothing was just staring at him, knowing very well what he was thinking about.
And it was you.
It should be obvious at this point that Garcello had feelings for you. You two met when you were in your second year of college; Garcello had dropped out at that point. He found you one day while he was walking through the park. It was pretty windy that day and your freshly printed thesis flew right into his face. It was pretty funny initially when it happened, you had reacted so wildly and with such great amounts of concern, probably because it was a very important piece of paper.
But at the same time it was so cute.
You were just so cute.
And since then, Garcello’s stance hadn’t changed. You were still the same adorable college student, except now you were closer to graduation than you were during his first encounter with you.
Ever since he laid his eyes on those panties that fell, it flipped his view on you. They were so… delicate but at the same time so sensual. So enticing. So… sexy. He knew it was so wrong to think that though just from a piece of cloth-- YOUR piece of cloth. Garcello couldn’t deny it though. The sight of it made him feel something on the inside. Something that needed to be satisfied.
Garcello hesitantly reached over and took the panties from the pile of clothes. He felt the soft material between his fingers, rubbing it against his skin as he gawked at them. The smoker could only imagine what you would look like wearing them. Just a simple pair of maroon panties hugging the curves of your hips, holding you so gently and with such care.
His fingers then began tracing the hem before finding himself at the bottom. The part which supported the most glorious and intimate part of yourself.
Garcello felt a small, labored sigh leave his damaged lungs. Then he looked down at his crotch.
Hard as a fucking rock.
“Shit…” The man muttered under his breath. He shouldn’t be doing this in the elevator. It could stop at any time and let someone else in, catching Garcello red handed. Or, well, maroon handed. But what could he possibly do in this situation? Just wait there while standing at attention when the elevator went at the speed of molasses? He needed relief.
A free hand would travel down to the middle of his pants, beginning to slowly and steadily feel at his dick, your panties still in one hand. Another sigh would leave him as his fingers adjusted around the piece of clothing, the smoker’s thumb rubbing the middle of the panties. He imagined himself sensually rubbing at your clit, hearing each mew and moan that would scramble out of your delicious lips as he did so.
He imagined the pussy juices pooling at the center of your panties and being absorbed into the fabric, fantasizing how damp and moist he could get you just with his touch alone. The thought of his thumb feeling through your sweet layers simply drove him mad. It made him hunger for more, hunger for the reality that Garcello knew he'd never be able to achieve now. But dammit, Garcello wanted to feel you. He yearned to relentlessly yet carefully finger you, watching your face morph and warp as sweet moans left you in a symphony.
And then he heard the elevator ding.
Garcello's heart nearly shot out of his chest, quickly hiding the panties in the pocket of his sweatpants before tying his hoodie around his waist, perfectly concealing his raging boner.
"Oh thank god." He muttered; no one was there, the elevator had just reached its destination.
The smoker quickly scrambled out of the elevator and rushed to the front door to the apartment. He nabbed the key card out of his pocket, fiddling with the sensor, his hands shaking from the mild adrenaline that came from feeling himself. Finally, he opened the door, bringing the bellhop with him inside before closing the door.
He would attend to the clothes later.
Garcello lied on the couch, pulling down his pants, his cock springing out. Then, he pulled out the panties.
And sniffed them.
He let out a noise of awe at the smell; it smelled just as divine as he expected it. Garcello continued to sniff that as he began to beat himself off, starting out nice as slow as he indulged himself on the fabric candy that was your panties. "F-Fuckk..." Garcello moaned, getting high off the ecstasy that came with your scent. He needed more though, the wafts weren't just doing it for him anymore. Garcello needed a taste of you.
His tongue proceeded to drag itself against the bottom of the panties.
And he tasted Heaven.
Garcello kept at it, lapping and eventually sucking away at whatever taste was left in them, his hand moving faster and faster around his shaft as he did so. Garcello would let out a collection of muffled groans and whimpers as he jacked himself off, fantasizing of the idea of eating you out. No meal would ever be able to satisfy him again if he could just eat at your pussy lips, sticking his tongue deep inside you and licking away at your galvanizing buffet of love. The idea of it rocked him to his ballsack.
And the smoker felt like he was about to blow.
Panting, he sped up his desperate hand movements. A loud and choked groan left him as he sucked at the maroon clothing. He was so close, just so close. He just needed to keep going. Just needed to keep dinning on your delectable and tantalizing panties. Just needed to--
Needed too--
Needed too--!
Garcello's climax crashed down onto him, the smoker letting out a grand and shaky moan as ropes and ropes of jizz landed on his hand and legs, thankfully missing the couch. He let out a pathetic mewl of pleasure following this, his hand coming to a stop as he proceeded to collect himself.
The maroon panties dropped from his lips and fell to the floor. After a couple of minutes, he got up and stared down at the panties on the carpet. As he continued to stare, a small seedling of guilt began to bloom inside him. He knew what he just did was wrong and a violation of your trust... but at the same time it felt so good.
And besides, it was laundry day. You wouldn't notice by the time you got home.
So, after washing himself up, Garcello pulled up his pants, stuffed the panties in his pocket, and made his way towards the elevator.
Making sure to get one last sniff of you before heading out the door.