The Emporium 02: Voices In The Back Of Your Mind
02: Voices In The Back Of Your Mind
Forgetting about the lonely and scruffy man with penetrating icy blue eyes was surprisingly difficult. While Dean could forget about most pretty things that flitted through his life relatively quickly, this stranger seemed intent on haunting him. Even if during waking hours he'd succeed in distracting himself, all it took was seeing a tan coat in his lunch breaks, a head of dark messy hair going by for Dean's eyes to zero in on the individual passing by for his mind to wander from his current task. He knew things were getting really bad when, during stock check, he thought of the man when he saw a bright blue dildo that matched the colour of his eyes. Dean swallowed convulsively, trying to get the bitter taste of shame out of his mouth. Perhaps he just needed to get this guy out of his system, after all it wouldn't be the first time he'd jerked off to one of his more better looking customers when he knew there was a very small chance of them returning. There was nothing worse, Dean had found out the hard way, than having to serve some customer while a little voice in the back of your head was chanting “I've jerked off to thinking about you playing with what you bought last time”. Yeah, talk about awkward. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Dean looked around to see if anyone had surreptitiously been staring at him in the hope of reading his mind. Only Ellen was pottering around the till sorting out accountancy books and the like. There were still 20 minutes until closing time and Dean had had enough already. While Ellen had been in the back to sort out odds and ends, Zacharia had come in again even though he wasn't due for his usual pack of supplies for another few days. He'd demanded Dean to pick out this and that for him, only to reject most of the things. For his efforts, all Dean got was a pat on the backside and the sale of some lube accompanied by a lewd leer. It made him shudder and Ellen had given him an extra 20 minutes lunch break in sympathy.
“You know, you could head off home now honey.” Ellen said not looking up from her books.
“Huh?” Dean was as eloquent as ever when caught off guard. After a few weeks of work, he and Ellen had developed a comfortable silence when they worked. Very rarely did they talk.
“I can shut shop tonight. You go home, relax. You've been distracted for the last few days Dean.” the unspoken question of 'why' was insinuated for Dean to ignore as he was wont to do.
“You sure?”
“Would I offer if I wasn't?”
“Thanks Ellen.” Dean pulled on his coat and grabbed his bag. An evening on his own sounded like what he needed and maybe it would bring some closure to the whole blue eyed mystery man. He'd found himself thinking more and more about the man, what he did, where he was now, whether he'd found what he was looking for. On his walk home, he found his thoughts wandering to the guy again. How had he used to lube he bought? Did he use it just as a lubricant to prevent chafing as he stroked himself? Or did he already have toys? Perhaps he used his fingers to stretch himself first. But it was a small bottle of lotion and he looked nervous just buying that so he probably didn't have anything other than his hand to pleasure himself with. Didn't look like the kind of person who would really. Dean thought of the man sitting alone on his bed, imagined what he'd look like naked and spread out on the bed, his hand glistening with the lube as he slowly teased himself up into a frenzy only to deny himself the pleasure by squeezing the base of his cock. And repeat it over and over again until he could hardly breath. Was he a screamer? Letting his orgasm tear a cry from his throat, arching off the bed. Or perhaps he was more refined, spilling over his chest with nothing more than a sigh to keep him company in his empty house.
Dean hurried up the stairs to his apartment. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound ringing through his deserted home. His dick was half hard in his jeans, the images his mind conjured up garnering interest from his 'lower brain' as Sam liked to call it. He let his jacket fall to the floor followed by his t-shirt. Shoes, socks and trousers left an easily followed trail to the door of Dean's bedroom. He palmed his cock through his underwear as he sank down onto his bed. He pushed himself up the bed until his feet were firmly planted on the mattress, his head near his pillows, just as he imagined the man had done it. Letting his hand trail down his chest, flicking a nipple with a shuddering gasp on the way, he slipped a hand under the waistband forming a loose circle around his hardening member. He gave himself a few lazy strokes, working himself fully erect before he raised his hips to slide his boxers off. With a soft groan Dean rolled to his side and reached for the top drawer of his night stand, hands blindly grabbing for lube. Drizzling some over his palm, he imagined the man doing the same. Tongue lapping out to wet his lips and closing his eyes, Dean's hand returned to his lap. He skimmed his fingers lightly over the head, teasing out a sharp inhale of breath as they close firmly over the shaft. His mind flicks to the images of the dark haired man lying on his bed with his slim body all sharp angles and flat planes, hand around his hard, aching member. His long fingers encircling the flesh, glistening with lube as his firm strokes are each finished with a small twist of the wrist and a flick of thumb over the head. Dean can see the man, as his hand sped up, blue eyes opening to stare sightless at the ceiling in blind pleasure. He adjusted his grip to let his little finger brush against his balls on every down stroke, causing his hips to stutter up into his fist. Dean's breathing became shallow and fast as his fist gained speed. Eyes closed, all he could think of was blues eyes scrunching up as wide pink lips fell open with pleasure and the man's back arched off the bed, white come leaving searing hot trails over his own chest. Where Dean had imagined the man's hand to be, his own slowly came to a stop, his own come striping his own chest. He lay on the bed a little while longer, gathering himself and battling with his conscience for jerking off to the image of a stranger. He wiped himself down with his t-shirt - it was a lost cause anyway - and instead of showering he fell back on the bed exhausted and was asleep within minutes.
His alarm jolted him out of bed, offensively playing Single Ladies by Beyonce. Dean cursed Sam for ever setting his alarm up for him. Frowning at the uncomfortable feel of his own dried come which he missed on his chest last night, Dean heaved himself out of bed with a groan. His morning routine quickly over and done with, Dean ambled towards his kitchen for coffee. Despite his best hopes, when he caught sight of his light blue mug he immediately thought of blue eyes giving him a scorching stare. With a small huff he downed the boiling hot dark brown beverage and frowned. Despite making note to not drink it as soon as he could without yelling his burnt insides out, he still did it every morning. Rinsing the cup, Dean hummed to himself and went to grab his jacket and keys. The ride to The Emporium wasn't long, but while it took 10 minutes by car, it would have taken 45 on foot. Somehow he just wasn't in to mood to waste that much time of the day walking when he could just ride his baby, his pride and joy.
The Emporium was quiet that day too. An odd couple came to buy some 'educational' DVDs. Or to put it in plain English, the nerdy scruffy guy wanted to watch porn while his busty blonde girlfriend gave him head. During their short stay at the shop, Dean had gleaned that the guy, Chuck, was a writer while his girlfriend Becky was his PA. It took a lot of self control from Dean to not ask what exactly she 'assisted' Chuck with. But they seemed happy enough with their purchases, Dean was happy to have sold something and he told them that they should come back more often to check out their new stock to see if there was anything else they wanted to 'learn'. A short spluttering later, the couple were out the door, Chuck looking scandalised while Becky giggled.
During his lunch break Sam came to chat to Dean. After the first two weeks, epic battles with large dildos didn't seem so much fun. Even when they declared to be each other's father while brandishing the toys. Ellen caught them in the middle of one such fight and said that if they didn't behave, they'd know where to shove it. Suitably put into their place, Dean and Sam vowed to only ever issue a challenge when Dean was working the shop floor on his own. And even then their yells of their injuries and victories had to be very quiet and discreet. They were leaning against the counter side by side in companionable silence when the door opened and the scruffy man appear much as he was before. Hair still a mess, suit still looking a bit worse for wear under the hideous tan trench coat and his eyes were still just as blue as Dean remembered them. Dean froze when he saw the man. He was not meant to return. The voice in the back of his head was having a field day screaming about all the dirty thoughts he'd had about the very man who was now approaching him. He fought hard to keep the blush out of his cheek and was hoping that by sheer freewill, he'd managed. The illusion was shattered when Sam cast him a knowing look as he headed out the door. Fighting down his embarrassment Dean gave the man a quick shy smile. It went completely unreturned as the man looked at him. He walked to the counter and stopped.
“Back for more lube?” Dean asked struggling to know what to make of the stranger.
“No. The lubricant was sufficient enough. Thank you for your recommendation. I was wondering whether you have any magazines?” The question was addressed to Dean's left shoulder.
“Sure, the shelf on the left just behind the lube.” Dean waved in its general direction. The man turned and moved towards the shelf. After a few minutes he returned empty handed.
“Not find the right thing?” Dean asked, trying to stay as professional as possible. He got a shake of the head.
“OK, what were you after?” he heart sank. Another corporate type with a really disturbing fetish. Zach was more than enough, Dean really didn't want any more of those.
“All the magazines had too many women in them.” Dean nodded before the answer sunk in. Too many women, huh? Who would have thought?
“So, you'd want something with just one woman?” Nice and clean, Dean thought before the man shook his head, cheeks colouring red.
“No women at all?” look at that, Dean could still be pleasantly surprised. The small nod had him moving from the till to the magazines.
“Well, let's see.” he began. The man trailed behind him with a forlorn look. “I personally prefer this one, but it isn't to everyone's taste” Dean said shoving a magazine at the man, prompting him to take it and look at Dean's face properly for the first time since he entered the shop that day.
“Or, if you want something perhaps a little less in your face so to speak, then you might prefer this. But to be honest I found that they do like to over do it on the close ups of post orgasmic jizz fests.” . The man just stared at him incredulous.
“Don't give me that look man. You asked for help, now you're getting it. I don't think there's anything wrong with one guy telling another what magazine they'd recommend.” Dean groused.
“You're gay.” was the only response.
“Umm...yeah? I thought that was kind of obvious just now.” Dean frowned.
“No.”
“Oh, well then, the award for being utterly oblivious goes to...” Dean realised he didn't know the guy's name and he might not even appreciate his humour. Shit.
“Castiel.” Dean thanked who ever was up there for not letting this joke fall flat too.
“Well Castiel, all the men only magazines are here, browse for as long as you want. And I'm Dean by the way.” what was he doing? Ellen had clearly stated that workers could not, under any circumstance flirt with or date a customer. So why was he checking this guy out and letting himself get a little too friendly? He ambled back to the counter and leant on his elbow waiting for Cas to finish. Great, now he just called him Cas. Having not talked about anything outside of self pleasuring aids (and even then the very basic stuff even teenagers should know) Dean was already giving the guy a nickname. This had to stop. Castiel came to the counter shortly after, clutching a magazine in one hand. Dean was mildly surprised and rather pleased that it was the one he recommended first. He billed the magazine and took the money. As Cas turned to leave, Dean called after him.
“See you around Cas.” the trench coat froze mid stride momentarily before carrying on. As he left though, luminous blue eyes met Dean's briefly. Suddenly Dean got the feeling that he wasn't the only one trying to shut the little voice up in the back of his mind.
03: Rules Are Made To Be Broken
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