Work Text:
Being the proud owner of a somewhat needy grey tabby cat, you’ve developed a sort of sixth sense for when you’re about to be annoyed. Not a moment after your neck starts to itch, the front door slides open, and in he walks. He whistled at you immediately, not even giving you a chance to scurry off into hiding. Reluctantly, you turned to face him as he sidled up beside you.
“Welcome to Lowes,” you said in your stiffest customer service voice. Childe grinned back, staring unabashedly at the ugly oversized vest uniform that you’ve been swallowed up by. “How can I help you today?”
“Yeah, so, I could use a hand lookin’ for a certain tool. Care to help me find my way, sweetheart?”
You chewed on your lip unamusedly, knowing that if you lost focus for even a second, you’d accidentally smile and break your disinterested façade. “You’re going to have to be more specific about what you mean, Sir.”
“Sure! It’s about this long, this wide—”
You couldn’t maintain a straight face anymore and slapped his hands away from his groin, where he’d been miming a 12 or so inch object accompanied with lewd hip thrusts. He stifled a laugh as you dragged him further down the aisle, ducking back into a hall of plastic-wrapped mirrors.
“What are you doing here—really?” you hissed, exasperated but also dying to laugh if not for your boss lurking around the corner. A dozen versions of you from all different angles argued with a dozen versions of him. Also, you were all too aware of the security camera above your head.
“Aren’t you off yet?” he asked, matching your whisper as he reached out a hand to ghost down your arm. You rolled your eyes, swatting him off.
“I’m off at three.”
“That’s in ten minutes, meaning that I have to be your last customer before clocking out.” He winked at you, his voice dropping into an even huskier whisper as his eyes roamed down your body, a half-conscious smirk sitting on his face. “The customer’s always right.”
“I’m a sales associate, not a stripper.”
You gasped sharply when he suddenly reached behind you and slipped his hands into your jean pockets, dragging you closer. Trapped against him, your hands were bent awkwardly on his chest as he pressed you into his chest.
“Childe!” you reprimanded, flushing red immediately, having nowhere to look but up at him. “What if somebody walks by?!”
“Then let them walk by.” His lips slanted over yours firmly, and if not for your weight braced against him, you felt that your knees would’ve given out.
You regained your sense—better late than never—and pushed him off of you, clearing your throat as you fanned your hot face. He was biting his lower lip, an all-too prominent bulge shaping up in his grey sweatpants.
“Outside, now,” you hissed, pointing down the aisle.
He knew when to pull his punches (aka when he was in real trouble) and smiled submissively, rising up to his full height over you. He delicately wiped the edge of your lip, a trail of his saliva left there.
“Don’t drag your feet,” he whispered into your ear, before tucking his hands into his pockets and leaving the store whistling a happy tune. You straightened your blue work-vest as if that might regenerate some lost dignity. You could only imagine what was waiting for you outside.
---
You at least managed to convince him to drive off to an abandoned lot by the river instead of railing you right in the Lowe’s parking lot for everybody to see. He, always dramatic, treated the extra thirty minutes added to the drive as if it were killing him. You caught every moment he glanced over at you hungrily, eyes drifting off the road for a frightening moment too long. His hand was a vice claw grip on your thigh.
“Calm down Edgelord,” you joked at a red light after he was forced to brake hard and cursed out the person in front.
“I am calm,” he retorted, carding his hand through wavy ginger hair as he sat back in his seat, clearly throwing a man tantrum. His eyes steeled on yours. “As calm as I can be with you in that dress.”
You knew that he would like it. You had changed out of your sad blue-collar uniform into a pretty lilac sundress, its plunging neckline complimenting your most important features very well. Childe’s right hand kept wandering up the soft skin of your thigh, fingers tracing the slit that let you reveal the most intimate curves of your leg.
“It isn’t fair that you got called into work on your birthday when you booked it off,” he complained as the traffic in front continued to crawl forwards.
“It’s okay,” you reassured for what felt like the millionth time. At this point, you were pretty sure Childe was more hurt about it than you. “It was just the morning, and I got paid OT.”
“I know, but I wanted to spend the whole day with you.” He was sulking now, his arm leaning on the window as he sighed drearily. Your heart stirred in your chest, but you punched him in the shoulder instead.
“You should merge left now.”
It’s a bit risqué to be doing something like this in broad daylight, but to be fair, you’ve got few other options. You live with your family in a small condo and Childe’s little brothers and sisters haven’t learnt about privacy or knocking yet. You can’t help but feel it’s trashy, but all the embarrassment goes out the window when you feel his strong hands sweep beneath you, lifting you onto his lap.
“Hey Beautiful,” he breathed, before flattening his face to yours as if he couldn’t kiss you any deeper. You let his hands explore your hips, waist, thighs, and ass, letting him squeeze and worship you wherever he touched. Soft moans escaped your lips against the background of the gurgling creek. As far as you knew, nobody came around this bend of the park because the drive up was too much of a bother; it was the perfect private spot for a scenic birthday picnic.
And fuck.
He unzipped your top bare, letting the silky fabric fall down your arms to expose your breasts. He spared you the shame of having to sit there while he gawked, taking your right nipple into his teeth first, massaging the other with his fingers. The electric feeling buzzed in your nerves, melting you into him with even breathier moans.
He was so unbelievably hard as you ground against him, hips undulating at an increasingly desperate pattern. You could feel your lace thong digging up inside of you, a cool wetness growing between you and him. You couldn’t make fun of him for being so horny when you felt like you couldn’t get enough to breathe, needing to be so close to him. Childe reached beneath your skirt, snapping the elastic band of your underwear in appreciation before yanking the fabric to the side. It took some acrobatics for him to pull down enough of his pants, but it took no time before his scalding hot quads were against your bare ass. You whimpered as he rubbed the length of his cock against your folds teasingly. The head bent into you before being swallowed up, your hips flush to his as his hands grabbed your waist with bruising strength.
“G-god, yes,” you stammered out as he began to rock into you, rolling his hips in delicious ovals. With a shaky groan he reached to the side of the chair and shot the driver’s seat back, the two of you jolting deeper into each other with a startled moan lodged in the back of your throat. You had nowhere else to grab but his shoulders, your acrylic nails digging into his toned flesh.
He held you up with his arms as his expression suddenly darkened. You could barely feel when he was in or out of you as he fucked you with inhumane speed, ramming himself into the top of you with unforgiving friction. The noises. Slapping skin on skin, his deep growls of encouragement, your high-pitched whelps of pleasure.
“Baby,” he grunted, the syllables accented with a jolt every time he thrust up into you. “You’re… doing so good… don’t hide your voice from me… just keep cumming like that…”
You had already come plenty, wetly, eyes-rolling-back-into-your-head-as-you-screamed-silently plenty… you’d had enough. But he wasn’t even close to being done with you. Your body, detached from your mind, undulated on his subconsciously every time he slowed for a breath, his head thrown back with tendons jumping in his jaw as he struggled to control himself. Your tongue wrapped around his fingers, hooked by your teeth; you swirled the tip of your tongue on them like you would the head of his cock, sweetly pink-tipped and throbbing inside of you. You grabbed fistfuls of his hair and he yanked the end of yours, forcing the two of you to stare up through the sunroof as he fucked you through your last earth-shattering orgasm. He clenched his teeth as his blue eyes trained themselves down on your bouncing breasts; your quivering thighs; the pained look of ecstasy written on your scrunched-up face; the white, sticky coating that was still slick between the two of you.
After he cleaned you up, he was happy to set up the blanket as you cited exhaustion as your reason for not helping out. You sat like a pampered princess as he laid out the charcuterie, piling up nice plates with all your favourite snacks he magically procured from a wicker basket. You were surprised he remembered everything you’d mentioned passingly. He even carried you from the car seat to the picnic blanket, laying you on a pillow he had fluffed up. The two of you got to overlook the fast-moving river, its surface glittering with sunlight.
“I must say,” you complimented, trying to mask your voice’s hoarseness, “you’ve outdone yourself. This is pretty romantic.”
The mini cake had a candle that he promptly lit with a match, shielding it from the wind with a cupped hand. “Hurry,” he urged, worried that the wind might steal your wish. You obliged, puffing out the flame with a gentle blow.
“What’d you wish for?” he asked as he cut the cake in half.
“If I told you, then it wouldn’t come true.”
“Fine,” he acquiesced, smiling at you fondly as he placed a bite on a fork to feed you. He looked at your expression as you enjoyed the sweet pastry. “You can keep your wish. I’ve already had all my wishes come true.
Happy birthday, my love.”