#jonathan casey

This was the first job you’ve had in a long time, no scratch that, ever, where you practically waited for your alarm to sound in the morning. 

Usually you are up before it sounded, and you start your day with a hot shower and a tune on your lips. 

Today is Monday, and even that can’t dampen your good mood. No, after the weekend off, you look forward to going to work. 

You slip into your carefully laid out clothes and leave with a bounce in your step. Breakfast was waiting at work for you. 

After two months at the Sugar Bee Bakery, you know the way by heart, blindfolded if needed. 

Stepping inside through the back door, you first go to the small break room, where you put your bag and jacket inside a locker. You are already wearing the mandatory polo shirt that sports the logo in the front and your name above the breast pocket. It’s a dark, forest green and thankfully compliments you. But everyone looked good in it, you had noticed a while ago. 

After securing your Y/H/C hair, you step into the heart of the bakery, the preparation area with its counters and ovens.

You see your coworker Glenn forming little buns and greet him from afar. Then your gaze travels through the rest of the room. 

“He is out front. That woman is back. The one he has his eyes on, you know?”

Yes, you know whom he is talking about. That auburn haired vixen showed up here 8 weeks ago and then came by every other day. She is married, you had noticed the ring on her finger the second time she came in. 

Still, your boss, Jonathan, he has taken a liking to her.

The thought alone of him out there pining after a woman who is taken, dampens your mood. Because Jonathan Casey is the reason you like your work. The kindhearted man had hired you even though you’ve had no experience in retail or baking. Before moving here, you've worked a 9-5 office job. But jobs like that were hard to come by around here, and applying at a bakery was a last straw. 

But it worked out. You were a fast learner and Jonathan a willing teacher. He even let you work in the preparation area more and more. 

He was a good man, but he was blind when it came to you. 

Sighing, your shoulders slump down, and you see the look of pity in Glenn’s eyes. 

“You should tell him how you feel before it’s too late, Y/N.”

“No. I can’t tell my boss I have a crush on him. I need this job. If he would initiate…”

Glenn’s laughter stopped you. “Then you have to wait till hell freezes over. Jon is many things, but he is not the kind of guy to make the first move. Just walk out there right now to witness it first hand.” Glenn pointed to the wall that separated the baking room from the front café.

“I can’t.” You tell him again and leave. Your shift today was manning the counter out front. And while talking to Glenn, the clock officially showed you as 5 minutes too late. 

Rushing to the front, you find Jonathan cleaning the big coffee machine while staring at that married bitch. 

“Hey Jonathan. Sorry, Glenn and I were talking in the back.”

“It’s ok.” he simply said. 

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Because you are cleaning that part for the last two minutes.”

Jonathan dropped the part he was cleaning and only now fully recognized you. 

“Umm...good morning.” he said, and his ears colored up. 

“Morning. So, where do you want me?”

“Can you take over? I need to head back.” Half his attention is on the door where his crush just left. 

“She is married, you know?” You feel like pointing out the obvious. 

“Get to work. You are already late!” he barks at you and leaves to the back. 

After getting reproved by Jonathan, you completely forget that you had no breakfast yet and dive straight into work. It is a busy morning and only after the lunch rush you find a moment to take a breath. But that moment doesn’t last long when you see Art Casey walking into the bakery. 

Art is Jonathan’s brother. He is intellectually disabled and Jonathan takes care of him. Everyone knows him and he is free to order anything he wants. 

Art sees you and walks up to you, smiling. 

“Hello y/n. I want a chocolate doughnut and a hot chocolate.”

He is such a sweetie, so you don’t mind taking your break after finishing his order. 

“Coming right up Art. You can take a seat.”

“Thank you.” he beams and walks over to a table by the window. 

You prepare his hot chocolate and get his doughnut and bring it over.

The table is right in front of you, but suddenly, your legs start to give in, and you drop the hot chocolate all over the table before you can steady yourself again. The plate with the doughnut falls to the floor and shatters. Still struggling to find your balance, Art is saying:”Uh oh, y/n made a mess. Uh oh, Jonathan is mad.”

Jonathan is mad? What? You look around and indeed Jonathan is walking up to you, his face angry and his eyes blazing. 

Only when he sees your face, he stops dead in his tracks. 

“Are you ok? You’re ashen.” He grabs your arm and puts you onto the next chair. 

“Sit!” he orders and looks at Art. “Are you ok buddy?”

“Yes. But y/n made a mess.”

Jonathan sighed. “I can see that, buddy. She didn’t mean to. Come over here and keep an eye on her while I clean that up.”

He moves Art through the debris and places him into the chair next to you. 

“Did you have anything to eat today?” Jonathan asks you, concern lacing his rough voice. 

You shake your head, embarrassed about this whole thing. 

“Both of you stay here. Don’t move. Like little kids, both of them.” he mumbles as he walks away. 

That’s how he sees you? As a little kid? You are roughly the same age. Maybe he means because you can’t take proper care of yourself. You feel like crying from hunger, humiliation, and hurt. 

That’s when Art places a hand on yours. 

“He is not really mad. Just worried. He doesn’t mind the mess. Just doesn’t want Art to get hurt. And you.”

“I don’t know. I pissed him off once already today.”

“Art pisses him off three times a day.” The grown man smiles with childlike innocence, and you can’t help but smile as well. 

Jonathan is back and sees you two smiling. 

“There is just one chocolate doughnut left. You have to share. And here is some water y/n.”

You nod thankful and take a sip from the pre-opened bottle. Your hands are shaking a little from your low blood sugar, and you are thankful Jonathan opened the bottle for you, anticipating such a thing. 

But on the other hand, it just proves that he thinks you are not fit to take care of yourself. 

Art pushes the doughnut towards you and drags you out of your thoughts. 

“Take it. You look so sad. Art is happy. You need it more to get happy, too.”

You throw a short glance at Jonathan, who is cleaning up your mess. He hesitates as if he feels your eyes on him. Looking up, your gazes meet for a second before you lower your eyes and start ripping the doughnut apart, blushing. 

The doughnut, some water, and Arts carefree stories make you feel better in no time. 

When your boss is ready with the cleanup, he comes up to you. 

“I want you to go home. Take some rest. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow at 5 am instead if you are better, and I teach you how to make that bread you are interested in?”

“I would like that. Thanks. And I am sorry. It won’t happen again. I will eat something at home from now on.”

Jonathan wants to say something but bites his tongue and just nods. 

You say goodbye to Art, pick up your bag and leave. 

The next morning you are at the bakery at 4.45 am, properly caffeinated and fed up.

The door is still locked, so you knock and wait a second until you hear the key turning on the inside. 

Jonathan opens the door. When you see him, you remember why you like these early shifts at the baking room. Your boss looks so soft early in the morning. Little eyes, disheveled hair and even more quiet than usual. It’s adorable. 

Today is no different and your heart beats a little faster as you pass him on the threshold where you can inhale that scent that is just him. Heady, woodsy, musky. You can’t quite place it, but it makes your stupid legs buckle again. 

He will shower after everything is in the ovens, and then he will smell like Kiehls Musk. A scent that fits him perfectly and that makes you want to lean into him just to inhale it. 

“Morning.” he mumbles, and you smile a little. “Morning.”

“Are you feeling better?”

He only searches your eyes for a moment before looking at the ground. 

“Yes. I had breakfast. And coffee. I am good to go. Sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”

Jonathan shrugged. “It happens. I sometimes forget dinner when I am doing the books.”

“We should both learn to take better care of ourselves, huh?” you tease, and he rubs his neck. “Guess so.”

With that, he walks towards the kitchen area, and you pack away your stuff, fix your hair, so it doesn’t end up in the dough and follow him to learn more about baking today.

No matter how tired or sleepy Jonathan seems, his movements are efficient and well-practiced. He really knows what he is doing in here. And he is a good and patient teacher. You look forward to this lesson. 

Next one to join you is Glenn, who is always in a good mood. Even at this hour. 

He connects his iPhone to the Bluetooth speaker and starts a playlist. You know, it’s called Good Morning Sunshine, and it has all those catchy feel good tunes in it. 

Jonathan sighs. You have no idea why he allows it, but you think he secretly likes it. 

“Come here Y/N and let’s prepare the dough for that bread. Here is the receipt.”

He hands you a card, and you start to collect everything you need. You measure it, fill it in the giant mixer and start it. 

While you have been working on that, Jonathan has started with some pre-made bun dough and is forming the little buns with ease now. 

You join him and grin at Glenn, who is making doughnuts, bouncing around to the music. 

The tune fades and the next song is something of an inside joke you are not privy to yet, but you enjoy it for what it is. 

We're on easy street

And it feels so sweet

'Cause the world is 'bout a treat

When you're on easy street

The tune is upbeat and catchy, and Glenn signs along from the top of his lungs while you join in. Jonathan looks pained. 

Glenn dances over to you and throws his hip at you to the beat, and you can’t help but throw your hip at Jonathan. 

“Come on boss. Don’t be a spoilsport.” you tell him laughing. 

“You two are like puppies. Go ahead and play, but I will not partake in this unless I’ve had a coffee. Or two Whiskeys.”

“Booh!” Glenn and you both say and shake your hips to the beat, laughing, while Jonathan shakes his head. You notice that he turns around a little to hide his smile, but you don’t call him out on it. It warms your heart, and you wish you could take some of the endless responsibilities off his shoulders, so he can be more carefree, but you are not in the position to offer help like that. 

Lost in thoughts and dancing and work, time flies by, and it’s time to open soon enough. 

Only when you are in the front, straightening the food, you think about what Jonathan has said. 

Puppies. Good for nothing puppies. He really must think you are helpless and naive. Pffft. He needs to loosen up a little, that’s it. 

But it hurts nonetheless. And then she walks in. You see her and leave the counter where no one else is right now to serve her. 

In the back you run into Jonathan. Freshly showered, he smells so amazing. And it makes you angry that he will go out there now pining after her and she can take a whiff of him. 

 “Your married crush is here.” you practically spit out and walk to the toilets. 

You lock yourself in the small room and sit down. Thankfully you never talked to Jonathan about your feelings. It was obvious that he didn’t share them one bit. But that woman...you can’t shake that uneasy feeling about her. But even if you would tell him about it, it would sound like jealousy, and he wouldn’t listen to you. 

You are stuck between a rock and a hard place, and you see no way out of it. 

Sighing, you leave the toilet, wash your hands and decide to torture yourself by going out there. 

The scene that awaits you is new. He is standing by her table talking to her. She is laughing about something he says, and he blushes. 

Shit. This is new. Before, he never had the guts to talk to her. 

You have a hard time averting your eyes from them and just as you want to take care of the next customer, Jonathan turns his head and looks right at you. His eyes change from soft and laughing to hard and intense. You overstepped earlier. He will probably scold you. Again. By now you don’t care. Maybe you should just quit here. 

Dismissing him by turning your head to the customer in front of you, you decide not to worry about it right now. 

Jonathan comes back behind the counter before the customer is done, and you feel the anger radiating off him in hot waves. 

Still ignoring him, you serve the next one person in line. 

When his crush leaves, he stalks to the back without confronting you. Perhaps he has decided to give you a pass. 

A bit later Glenn shows up. 

“I’ll take over here. Jonathan wants to see you in his office. What did you do?”

“Overstepped again.” you tell him and leave. So, no pass for you. 

You step into Jonathan’s office and find him doing paperwork. 

He looks up briefly and gestures to the chair in front of his desk. You sit down and wait patiently for him to finish what he is doing. 

Of course you could plead your case, but you don’t. He knows by now how you feel about it, and you will not take it back. 

“Y/N. You are working for me for 2 months now. You do good work, but I don’t appreciate it if you butt into my personal life. I want you to go home now and think about this whole situation. If you feel unable to keep quiet, I will have to let you go. I will give you the rest of the week off. I want your answer on Monday.”

You are so close to tell him that he is making a mistake. Again. But you decide to just nod and leave. 

It is Friday, 3 days later, and you are pretty sure you have made your decision. 

It’s almost 8 pm, the bakery will close any minute, but you grab your jacket and leave your house anyway. 

10 minutes later a co-worker lets you in the back and wishes you a nice weekend. 

You smile back and close the door behind them. 

Then you slowly walk to the front, where you can hear clutter. You know Jonathan locks up each night and puts up the chairs, so the cleaning lady can mop the floor in the morning. 

For a moment you watch him. How he picks up one chair after the other and puts them face down onto the tables. 

You walk in and grab the nearest one and do it too. Only now he notices you. Ignoring him, you continue to set up the chairs, and after a moment he does too. 

You two work in silence until everything is set up, and only the counter is left to straighten out. 

“Coffee?” he asks, and you just shrug and walk over to the front of the counter to lean on it. 

He sets up the coffee machine with efficient moves, and it starts two coffees right away. 

Jonathan gives you an uncertain look and wants to say something, but you stop him. 

“Here is my notice effective immediately because I work here for less than 12 weeks.”

You hand it over, and he accepts it, puts it on the counter. 

Again he opens his mouth, but you stop him again. 

“Now that I don’t work for you anymore, I want you to know a couple of things. You are making a big mistake with that woman. She will never leave her husband. They don’t do that. She just wants attention because maybe he is working long hours. Or their sex life is a bit boring. She is not looking for you. Just for a guy to show her some affection. You just happen to do that. And you refuse to see that she is using you like that.”

You are talking up a storm, and you can see several emotions ghost over his face. Annoyance. Anger. Anguish even. 

“You are too blind to see that someone who wants you for who you are is right here! Who would love you and only you. I see you, Jonathan. I know that you are a good and kind guy, and you deserve better than to be just an affair. The other man. But you never looked at me like that. You must think I am a child. Just someone more to take care of. Another anchor holding you down. I can’t make you love me. But maybe I can make you question if you want to be merely the other man. When you could be THE man for someone else. You deserve that. I hope you find someone to replace me soon. Take care.”

You walk out without giving him a chance to reply. You doubt he is able to. He looked shellshocked. 

Sunday Night, your TV calls out to you. Since you have no work tomorrow, you decide to have some ice cream and a movie. The opening credits have just started when there is a knock on your door. 

It’s 8 pm. A little late for a visitor, so you are cautious as you open the door. 

It is Jonathan. Drenched from the rain outside, his hair is plastered to his head and his clothes are soaked. He pushes your door open, not waiting for an invitation, and steps into your hallway to drop water on your floor. 

“What do you see?” he asks, his eyes darting everywhere but to you. 

You take a moment to process the question, and finally you remember what you have said to him on Friday night, that you see him. So, the answer comes from the bottom of your heart. 

“I see a man who loves his job. Loves to teach. Loves the morning dance sessions, but is sometimes painfully shy. Too shy to engage, in fear his employees would take him less serious then. A man who cares deeply for his challenged brother, but who sometimes cracks under the weight of the responsibility. Someone who is too proud to ask for help when all he really wants is a shoulder to lean on sometimes.” You take a breath, and he uses the pause to speak up again. 

“How do you know all this?”

Is he really that unaware of himself? That if someone actually takes the time to look at him, it is painfully obvious. He is an open book to you. 

“I told you that I see you, Jonathan. And all that was written on your face at one point or another. You are lonely even when you are surrounded by all these people because that is not the connection you seek. You are a provider at heart, that’s why you fell for her and her sad eyes. But you don’t need another person to take care of. You need someone who takes care of you for a change.”

His eyes dart from his shoes to your face, but last on it for only a split second before he looks away again. 

“I followed her home tonight. I saw her with her husband. Kissing. They undressed in the living room and...”

He looks up at you now helpless and lost. 

“I just want to catch a break. Between work and Art, I just want to have something for me. All I ever do is care for everyone else. I want someone who cares about me.”

His voice cracks and you swear there are tears in his eyes. 

“I care Jonathan. I am here for you, but when I stepped into your life, you were already fixated on that woman. Because she paid attention to you. And she shined so bright you didn’t see me. But she is bad news. I feel it. Please trust me on this. Let me take care of you, if only for tonight.”

You walk up to him and grab the sleeves of his jacket. For a moment he looks away, but then he shyly looks at you. His blue eyes soften and he manages a small smile. 

“I would like that.” he admits and blushes. 

“Okay. Let’s start by getting you out of these wet clothes.”

Your hands slowly move up his arms until they rest for a second on his shoulders. Then you push them under the jacket to slip it off his shoulders. 

Heavy and wet, it falls down on its own and lands on your floor with a thud. 

Underneath he wears a thin Henley shirt which is equally drenched and clings to his body like a second skin. 

Taking a moment to appreciate the view you work your hands back down his arms. When they run over his cold hands now he grabs them and you look up. His blue eyes have darkened, and his pupils are huge with desire. You are sure yours are equally blown up. He runs his cold thumbs over your warm hands and you shiver a little.

Witnessing your reacting to his caress, Jonathan lets go of your hands to move his own to your hips that are just within reach. Before you can react, they slip under your shirt and come to rest on your hot skin. Cold meets hot and there is almost that sizzling sound audible. Or maybe it’s your hiss as another shiver runs down your body. You feel your muscles clench from the cold, and you know without looking that your nipples are hard as rocks and visible under your clothes. It seems to be the case because Jonathan moves his hands up beneath your shirt until he can cup your breasts with his chilly fingers. Involuntary you close your eyes and throw your head back from the sensation. The sensory overload is too much for a second. The way every muscle contracts in your body, you swear you have a mini orgasm right there, and a moan escapes you. 

Forcing your eyes open again, you see Jonathan watching you intently, fascinated by what his cool touch does to your body. Just as you think you have calmed down a little, he gives both your nipples a little tug and twist, which leaves your mouth hanging open again, panting slightly. 

The way his mouth curves into a dirty little smirk almost gives you the rest, but as he continues to knead your breasts like they are dough, his hands moving expertly over your flesh you whimper once more, and you come from just his hands on your body. 

Your hands seek his arms for support, and you cling to him, riding out your high. He watches fascinated, his fingers now only lazily stroking over your sensitive skin. 

With your hands already on his elbows you push down his arms smiling softly about his pout. 

“My turn.” Your voice sounds husky and spend. 

It’s your turn to let your hands explore new territory. Shoving them under his wet shirt, you feel that his skin is clam and cold, making the shiver your action sends through him part exited rush and the other part beginning hypertension. 

You grab his shirt and roll it up over his chest, and he helps you clumsily to drag it over his head, which is not so easy. He pants a little once the wet piece of clothing hits the ground, and you simply admire the view of his half naked form for the first time. Taking in every taut muscle, every inch of his flat belly and the small happy trail leading down to his pants. 

You feel like returning his favor and place your hands on his stomach. His skin is damp and cool to the touch, and he visibly shivers as you run your warm hands up his chest. He follows your movements with half lidded eyes. When your right hand comes to rest over his heart, you feel it beating underneath. The fingers of your left hand rake through his chest hair, which is sparse. You notice his pupils dilating when your nails scrape over his skin, and you adjust your hands accordingly. Now you gently run your nails back down his chest till they hit the waistband of his jeans. 

“They need to come off as well.” you mumble, but you hesitate above the button. If he wants to stop you he can do it now. But he doesn’t. Instead he grabs your hands and places them firmly on the fastener. 

You fumble with the wet jeans' fabric, but finally you manage to push the button through the hole. You hesitate with the zipper though because there is a visible bulge straining it. 

He gets it himself with impatient hands and pushes it down, and you can see he is going commando. You see the base of his cock and delighted you grab his waistband again and push it down slowly. He hisses as the rough fibers brush over his sensitive flesh. The moment the pants are down far enough, his cock springs to attention eagerly. It’s almost hard, and you marvel the fact that he is above average in length and girth. 

“Hmm.” You hum delighted and the sound makes his length jump. 

Taking your right hand away from his jeans, you dare to run the nail of your index finger over his exposed dick. Gentle but firmly. The flesh is surprisingly warm, hotter than the rest of his skin, which is really no surprise given the amount of blood currently directed to this body part. 

“Go on.” he growls, urging you to keep on with the undressing. 

You obey, pouting a little, which makes him smirk again. He kicks his shoes off to help with the undressing, and you bend down to push his jeans further down. Once your head is at the same level as his proud shaft, his hands find your hair and gently massage your scalp. He is not pulling your mouth forward or anything like that. He lets you finish with the pants and then there he is, butt naked in your small apartment. 

Where he normally is shy and unsure, he seems to have no qualms about his lack of clothes. His hand still on your head, he lets you straighten up again. 

“Your pj’s are cute, but they have to go.” he mumbles as his hands venture from your head over your arms down to the hem of your Winnie Pooh pajama top. 

You blush suddenly. In all this, you completely forgot that you are in your comfort clothes. 

He looks at you, asks you silently if it is ok just like you had before and you nod once. His hands are still cool, and he teases you by running his knuckles over every inch of skin he exposes as he lifts your top. 

Your nipples perk up yet again, and now he lazily smiles as he can see them for the first time. 

You help him with your top, and he throws it aside without a second thought. His attention is on your tits again, and he flips his thumps over the little pebbles, which makes you moan again. 

“So sensitive.” he murmurs fascinated, and you are certain that information is embedded in his brain now for future reference. 

He gets busy with your pajama pants next. Slips his cold fingers underneath the waist band, and he pushes them down along with your slip, falling on his knees in front of you. 

You inhale sharply at this action because his face is now incredibly close to your dripping core and so far, you haven’t even kissed him yet, let alone let your mouths do any kind of exploration. 

His hands land on your hips, and he looks up at you. You can’t decipher the look. Is he asking for permission to continue? Is he preparing for something else? So far, words were obsolete on this endeavor, but maybe not anymore. 

“Bed...bedroom?” you ask just as he has decided to push his hands between your legs. His index finger pushes between your folds, finding your dripping core with ease. It enters you two digits deep, and then he twirls it around. Your eyes close and you almost forget your earlier question.

“Bed.” you moan as his finger leave you, and he looks enthralled at his finger that is coated with your fluids. When he pushes it inside his mouth to lick it clean, you almost come again. You both moan for different reasons. 

Before this ends with the both of you fucking right here, you take two steps back, and he is too slow to stop you. His blue eyes look up at you blazing with carnal desire. He wants you and you moving away from him out of his reach seems to awaken some primal instinct in him. 

 He growls and stands up, and you turn and practically run for your bedroom. It’s not far, your apartment is small, and you manage it inside the room to the bed before he catches you. He pushes you down onto the bed, face first, and he is over you before you have the chance to turn around. 

There is that second of panic as his weight presses you down and your face is forced into the bed sheet. But you manage to lift it up as you feel his body settle above you. His hard shaft presses down between your butt checks while his hot breath is on your neck. His arms support part of his weight, which is why you are able to lift your head again. 

“This okay?” his voice is rough with need, but he stays perfectly still. He could grind his hips against you or bite down on your neck, but he stops and waits for your answer. 

“I want to look at. See your eyes, Jonathan.” You buck beneath him a little, and he rolls off you. Managing to push your arms up, you crawl further up the bed. Once your head is on your pillow you flip around. He hasn’t moved, but watches you like prey. Once you are settled, you open your arm, and he is on you again a second later. 

Your bodies seem to fit so perfectly together, the tip of his dick is aligned with your cunt all on its own. He just needs to push it home, but he waits again. 

“Is kissing you ok?” you ask, and he hesitates, and at that moment you are glad you asked. Finally, he nods and bends down slowly until his lips brush against yours. He is tender and hesitant, and you let him set the pace. Only opening your lips just a little bit to suggest that exploring deeper is ok as well. His tongue finds the opening, and he pushes it inside at the same moment his hips buck forward, and you feel the tip of his penis slip into your well lubricated cunt.

You moan, allowing him deeper access to your mouth that way, and he uses it, pushing his tongue deeper as well as his dick. And you accept both extensions from his body greedily into yours. 

His shaft stretches you until he is buried into you up to the hilt. A perfect fit lengthwise. His girth takes a little getting used to, so your right hand finds his ass cheek, and you hold him down inside of you. 

“I need a moment.” You explain, and he nods, trying to give you a little time to get used to him. 

After a couple of seconds when your inner muscles had a chance to adjust, you let go of him and push your hand between your bodies to stroke yourself. You give him a small nod, and he starts to pull out, leaving a hollow feeling behind. It is good that you are already wet from coming once, but at the same time the first orgasm has tightened your vagina. A blessing and a curse. 

Jonathan picks a slow rhythm at first. He pulls out almost completely before pushing back in up to the hilt until your fingers can’t move anymore. Only gradually he picks up the pace, giving your body time to adjust. The whole time he watches your face, takes in every sign of discomfort and adjusts accordingly. 

Like you have told him before. He takes care of people, and it shows even in the bedroom. 

Once you feel completely comfortable with his shaft inside of you, you pull your hand away from your clit. It’s wet, and you take it to your lips. His eyes blaze as you push it between your lips to lick it clean. You barely have the chance to pull it out, then his lips come crashing down on yours to savor the taste as well. Your hands find another thing to do when you bury them into his hair to deepen the kiss and to hold him close. 

With his tongue still inside your mouth, he picks up his pace once again. Each thrust is a little harder than the next. He repositions his hips slightly, so his dick rubs against your clit with each thrust. 

A moan escapes your mouth and as a silent answer from him, his next push ends deep inside you, and you are not completely sure if your next sound is a moan or a groan. Because he is buried so deep inside you that the tip of his shaft brushed against your cervix. 

Again he surprises you by staying still. Searching your eyes. Asking for permission to continue. 

“Fuck me like you mean it, Jonathan.” you tell him and pull his lips back down to yours by his hair. The action makes him wild, and he trusts into you hard and deep. Your bodies are a perfect fit, and you feel your second orgasm of the night crawl up on you. 

He, too, seems close the way he closes his eyes in that sweet mixtures of pleasure and pain. La petite mort the French call it, not without reason. 

Your hands leave his hair and land on his ass. He wants to pull out of you before he comes, but you force him to keep inside of you. 

“I’m on the pill.” you tell him. For every other safety measure, it’s already too late anyway. 

You are healthy. You had a check-up after the last guy. And you don’t picture him to be someone with various sex partners, so you assume he is clean as well. 

Encouraged by your words, his next two shoves are fast and deep, and then he stills, groaning against your mouth. 

“Y/n.” his voice is rougher than usual, and you feel his cock pumping his seed deep inside of you which sends you over the edge as well. 

Your muscles milk him dry, but he stays buried inside of you just a little longer, even as his dick starts to soften. 

His fingers find your hair, and he brushes a strand out of your face. 

“I’m clean, in case you are wondering.” Jonathan tells you his eyes searching yours. 

“Me, too.” 

He smiles a little and finally rolls off you. His dick leaves your cunt, making a tiny plopp sound. Resting beside you, you both look at the ceiling, catching your breaths and process what has just happened. 

You just slept with Jonathan! It happened, and it was everything you have hoped for and more. If you will only ever have this one night with him, you know you would be ok. A one-night stand to hold dear in your heart. 

Suddenly, you feel calloused fingers on your hand. They are warm now as he covers your hand with his and squeezes it, but still not looking at you. 

You turn your hand upside down and squeeze back, and then your heads turn to each other and you both smile and blush like teenagers. 

“Stay the night?” You ask and he nods. Grabbing your blanket, you drag it over both of you then you lay down on your side and Jonathan crawls up behind you. 

It takes a little while for both of you to be comfortable, but you sigh happily and close your eyes. 

Too late, you remember your ice cream in the living room that will be liquid by now. And you just don’t care. 

At 4 am the next morning your alarm clock goes off. You fumble for the snooze button and fall back to bed. Only then you realize that you are not alone in it and you turn around. Jonathan is awake now as well, you can see his face just a little.

“Sorry. I forgot to switch it off on Friday.”

“Good thing you didn’t. I need to get to the bakery.”

“Right. Ummm...do you need help? I could...I mean...” you bite your lip. 

“Would you come back?”

“If you want me. Yes.”

He leans forward and kisses you, morning breath and all.

“I want you. All of you. Sorry, I have been too blind to see what’s right in front of me.”

You brush your hand over his cheek. “It’s ok. Sometimes you need to change your perspective to get a clearer picture.”

“That’s right.” he mumbles.

“Let’s take a shower and get going, or Glenn will panic all on his own.”

“You are right. Why don’t you pack an overnight bag, and we continue this at my place after work?”

“I would like that.”

Somehow the two of you manage to get to the bakery before Glenn. Jonathan quickly changes upstairs while you prepare the receipts in the meantime. 

Together, you start in comfortable silence. 

Glenn walks through the door at 5 am whistling, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. 

“Y/N? What? How? You quit.”

“Got re-hired.” you explain, not giving anything away. 

Glenn looks at his boss, gives him a happy thumbs up for the good decision, and gets to work. But not before he connects his phone to the Bluetooth speaker.

Soon enough the catchy start of Easy Street sounds through the room and Glenn and you do your little routine of slapping your hips together. When you dance towards Jonathan now he is smiling and he joins in. Your hips connect once, twice and then your lips meet while both of you smile. 

Glenn just stares for a moment, and then he shouts: “Finally!” 

“Get back to work.” Jonathan growls, but there is no heat behind his words. 

-The End

Post credit scene

You are behind the counter handing out a coffee when she walks in. You see her and put on a neutral face as she steps up to the counter. 

“One Hazelnut Macchiato please.” she tells you smiling. 

“Coming right up.”

You start the coffee and when you see her eyes averting to the back door, you know Jonathan stepped just through it. Her smile gets wider, and you tense. This is it. The test. 

“Hello Jonathan.” she greets.

“Hey babe.” he says, but not to her. He says it to you and leans with his back to the woman against the counter and pulls you close. He dismissed her, and not in a nice way. 

“Hey Handsome.” you grin as he kisses you. 

You see her smile fading and her eyes getting cold. She turns on her heel and walks out. You have the urge to call after her that the coffee is not ready yet, but you rather have her leave than being petty. 

“You haven’t had breakfast. I have a croissant waiting in the back for you. Why don’t you go to the break room, and I’ll bring you a caramel macchiato?”

You smile. Jonathan is an excellent baker, but an even better barista. Getting a coffee from him is a pure delight. 

“But remember to use...”

He stops you.

“Vanilla sweet cream. Extra milk foam. Extra hot. Three pumps of caramel, one pump of toffee nut syrup. White chocolate mocha sauce on top.”

He knows your favorite drink by heart. You are certain that you have only told him once how you liked your caramel macchiato. The other times you prepared it yourself. 

“I remember Y/N. Because I wasn’t aware before, but now I am certain. I have always seen you, too.”

You sniff as he says that to you before kissing you yet again.