Tostellify

It's another mundane night at the diner, you've been waitressing at this godforsaken place for the past year and you've never seen anything remotely interesting happen here.

That is until around 2 months ago, there's been an evening regular who comes in around eight almost every day, and orders the exact same thing. Doesn't sound bad, right?

Well he's a fucking creep. Almost always staring at your ass when you walk back to the kitchen, eyes glued to your tits when you lean over the table to pick up his plate, or once you stood too close and he had a very clear boner.

And this isn't to say he's ugly, he's almost attractive in his own nerdy way, just like a pipe cleaner with eyes. But you can't stand him, always watching and being a total perv.

Today though, he stumbles in around his usual time and plops right down on the sticky bench in the back. Sighing, you mentally prepare yourself and pick up a menu and your notepad. It's obvious that he's watching you make your way over, but he's trying to hide his eagerness.

"Welcome in, you need time with the menu?"

You try to keep your tone even and blank despite your disdain for him, just to be combatted by his wide eyes and head shake.

"No, just a plain waffle and coffee. No milk and yes sugar please."

Right, of course. What else would he possibly want? You take a deep sigh and stalk to the kitchen, not bothering to ask if he wanted bacon or sausage (never), and painfully aware of him watching you.

When you come back out with his things, he mumbles a form of thanks like typical, but for some reason you just won't let it slide today.

"What?" You know exactly what he said, and your voice came out snappier than intended, but you're tired of him acting like this.

"Uh- me?"

How dense could this guy be?

"Yes you, who the fuck else?"

"Oh. I just said thank you?" He's not used to you going off the usual script, and it's throwing him off. He pushes his glasses up with one hand, and stirs his coffee with the other.

"Well speak up next time, you're such a creep."

"C-creep? How?" Is he so serious? The dork sits there like a schmuck all the time, ogling you, and now he's playing dumb?

"What do you mean 'how'?"

You're lucky this place is desperate for work, because the way your voice has started to raise would've gotten you fired anywhere else.

"C'mon man, you're here all the time to gawk at me like I'm a cheap prostitute, and you can't even use your words right."

That gets to him, you sure feel better for all the words you've been keeping inside, but he's all red faced now. Apparently having the audacity to tear up, and you almost feel bad about how pathetic he looks. The sympathy doesn't last when you see his shaky hands on his lap, which just leads you to see how hard he is.

You glance back, and see that the cook went outside for a smoke break, so you grab his wrist rather roughly and pull him up. He's not hard to yank up, and definitely let's you pull him all the way to the back room. When you shut the two of you in the storage room, surrounded by cleaning supplies, you start whisper yelling.

"Do you seriously have a boner from me yelling at you? Are you that fucking desperate?"

He just shrinks back, although he's taller than you he doesn't feel like it at all. It's truly sad how his bottom lip wobbles, and legs shake when you're so upset with him.

"Please, I'm sorry. I swear I don't mean it."

That's the first time you've actually heard him speak outside the routine, and he sounds just as miserable as he looks. Good.

"You're so gross, you know that? I see you stare at my tits all the time, don't you know how disgusting that is?"

Nodding fervently, the man looks anxious to get out. But you can't let that happen. So you step forward, caging him into the room more.

"I mean, you act like some dumb puppy! It's really just depressing, seeing you act all desperate."

You're trying to get to him, but his face just gets redder and redder. At the word "desperate" his expressions just pinch up and he lets out a little whine. Grasping at one of the shelves next to y'all, his knees buckle.

"Holy fucking shit. Did you just cum in your pants?"

You're in total shock, I mean all you did was yell at him. You weren't remotely nice, but he got off to that? Ew.

He's still on the floor panting and trying to catch his breath, so you give him a soft kick. Nothing hard, just pushing your shoe to his thigh. When the world comes crashing down on him, it's like he got struck by lightning. You watch him scramble to his feet, and push past you out the door, wet patch on his pants brushing against your arm.

You follow him out, just to watch him sprinting out the door. He didn't even pay? Now that comes out of your pocket, dang it. You don't know his name, or anything about him, but honestly the whole thing kind of turned you on too.

You aren’t allowed to finish the thought before the apartment door opens, just the way he does it. How embarrassing is it that you memorized the way he opens the front door? Nonetheless he walks into the kitchen, probably smelling the food and getting ready to get his fill. But when he sees you, he turns on his heel, already trying to walk out but you push your chair back and get up.

“Wait, Spencer please!”

You almost cringe at how pathetic you know you sound, but the whiney plea is enough to get him to turn back towards you.

“Spencer, please can we talk?”

Clearly you must’ve turned the pity up, because he lets out a little sigh and sets his messenger bag on the floor. Almost like bracing himself he takes a seat in a chair and starts loading up his bowl as if keeping his mouth full could save him. Lucky you, it doesn’t. Exhaling a little huff, you sit down as well and make your own bowl.

“What did the kiss mean for you?”

Your questioning is blunt and straight to the point, but you know he’d prefer that over beating around the bush, and to be fair it saves you from possibly being embarrassing when trying to fill silence.

“It was a kiss.”

Spencer keeps it short as well, not giving a proper answer, but you both know it would probably be easier to rip the band aid off.

“I personally did not believe your date showed you the respect nor appreciation you deserved. I apologize if it was out of line for me to do, and I will gladly move out if it would make you more comfortable.”

There’s a long silence between the two of you, on his end due to being too flustered to continue but still taking big bites of soup. You on the other hand are suffering from dry mouth and everything around you being fuzzy. Was he jealous of Brighton? He clearly didn’t like the fact that you weren’t treated properly. You can half hear him complimenting the soup, which was canned but he likely was trying to make things less awkward. Once it registers how long you must’ve been staring, you quickly sit up straight.

“No, no please. I didn’t mind at all. Actually, I truly do like you. A lot.”

“Oh.”

There! You said the words you’ve been holding back for a while, and you get met with a noncommittal, nondescriptive, non-ANYTHING, response? Your face drops, and Spencer noticed immediately and continues.

“Not ‘oh’. I didn’t mean it like that. I like you too, I just- well you’re so you. Y’know?”

He’s so obviously nervous, but why? He’s an actual genius in the FBI, how is he nervous? Instead of responding, you just give him a look, which he takes as an invitation to continue.

“Look, you’re so bubbly and bright, you have an actual social life, I’ve seen nothing but gentleness and kindness from you. And I’m… well I’m me.”

It’s a wonder the poor guy doesn’t have a panic attack right there and then, soup completely forgotten, and picking at the skin around his nails. You don’t hesitate to reach across the table and pull his hands apart, holding his hands firmly. Making eye contact with those big, sweet puppy eyes, you almost feel bad for bringing anything up.

“Dr. Spencer Reid, you’re the most intelligent, thoughtful, and caring man I know. There is no reason to doubt yourself, or my feelings for you.”

He’s practically awestruck, not only did you use his official title, but you described him with such tenderness, you may as well have hung the stars. You’re unsure of what to do next, but of course you don’t have to worry about that because he’s already sliding off his chair and maneuvering around the table. Almost pulling the table train off, he grips the edge of it with one hand, and the other on the side of your chair. Settling on his knees, right in front of you, you’re certain this must be a dream.

“Please, whatever you want, just let me kiss you again. Properly.”

You don’t think twice about yourself getting on the floor as well, arms snaking over his shoulders, fingers mingling with his neatly combed hair. Noses almost touching, the two of you spend a moment just looking into each other’s eyes before your lips meet. This time instead of it being brief and soft, he kisses you intensely. And you match his fervor, his mouth still tasting like the overly sugary coffee you know he constantly drinks. The two of you slow your movements, but you don’t calm them. Boldly, you bite his bottom li, causing him to let out a whine.

Despite the awkwardness of the floor, he scoots back towards the wall, so his hands are free to hold your waist and slip up under your shirt. Inhaling sharply, you make yourself comfortable on his lap with legs on either side of him, hands completely ruining his hair. The kiss only deepens, though the movements are still slower they’re purposeful, and when you finally pull away for air all he can do is stare at you. Honestly, you’re not sure if he’s even taking the time to breathe, but his face is flushed, lips a shiny pink, and slightly puffy. And dear heavens his eyes, it’s absolutely precious how dazed and enamored he looks.

“You look like the sun.”

He seems to have caught his breath finally, at least enough to have said that. Peppering a kiss on each cheek, you can’t help but grin at him.

“Well then you’re my moon, aren’t you?”

Having no shame in your teasing tone, he vigorously nods his head. Although he’s clearly eager for more, you untangle yourself from him. Once your legs have the strength to get up, you pull him up with you. Trying to lead him down the hall, he hesitates with a glance back at the kitchen.

“I’ll clean up, then I swear I’ll be there. No chance I wouldn’t be.”

“No wait, I can help too.”

You know he wants you to let him do it himself, but instead he takes your hand and lets you do a spin. Then the two of you spend probably the next 15 minutes straightening the kitchen out, easy flirty comments flying between the two of you. Despite no official titles have been applied, you both know there’s something between you two.

Authors note: Shaking in excitement for the next chapter, they get freaky and I can't WAIT to publish it next week. 😛

Taglist:

@mariethesley

@vq-ale

@mburns0318

The chilly apartment has turned warm and humid, at least in your room. A few beads of sweat gather on your top lip but that’s nothing compared to the mess that Spencer is making underneath you. His whole body is covered in sweat, lap a mess of your spit and precum from you pumping his cock off and on for the past hour, and the poor man has drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. He’s starting to cry again, and you almost feel bad but you’re too wet and probably as needy as him.

“C’mon Spence, say please again?”

“No, nonono, you’re going to be mean again…” He’s so whiney and the tears are flooding his eyes, even though you told him no hands, his fingers grasp towards your hips.

“I’m not baby, do it and I’ll let you cum.”

Spencers eyes light up if that’s possible in his pathetic state, hips bucking up to your hand again.

“Please, please let me cum? Anything you want, I’ll do it, please?”

You smile, part of you feels greedy for this but you know he enjoys it just as much as you. Pulling your panties to the side, you already know how soaked you are as you sink down onto his cock. Sighing in relief from your pent up want, that’s nothing compared to Spencers loud whines. The way his hand grip you’re hip you'll probably have marks later, and he’s practically writhing underneath you, his hips thrusting up desperately.

“Awe, being such a good- umph, such a good boy?” You’re trying to tease him, but his thrusts are interrupting you and breaking your focus. He’s still driving himself into you rapidly, eyes glazed over when you move his hands from your hips to your tits. Regaining some control, you push his shoulders to the mattress so he’ll stay still and so you can grind yourself down onto him. It doesn’t last long because Spencer wraps his arms around your back and pull you chest to chest with him, the starts pounding up into you.

“Please, please mommy I won’t last. I’m gonna-”

Mommy? That’s a new one, but you aren’t particularly complaining, if anything you’re too distracted by how good he feels. However you don’t get to orgasm before you feel his cock pulsing, and a warm wet release. He’s babbling apology after apology but you keep trying to grind against him, almost there.

"T-too much, please, 's too much-" Spencer's orgasm seemed to have subsided, and overstimulation starts to kick in. Too much warm wet and tight, but you haven't finished yet and he knows you'll get what you want. You keep going, feeling his cock pressing your g-spot and your clit rubbing against the base of him, and it's starting to get to you as well.

Releasing a whine almost as pathetic as his, you feel yourself cum around him. Despite you collapsing against him limply, he's still whimpering at the feeling of your pussy squeezing around him.

The two of you drift to sleep, intertwined, soaked in sweat, but in states of mutual bliss.