Y/N works at a sex shop Part 2 (Patreon)

Hiii :) I hope you like it! 

part 1 

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Harry’s nerves had resparked as he made it the library, scaling the carpeted stairs, spotting Y/N in the booth from the far left. He’d been totally comfortable with the idea for the first hour but when he sees that rolled paper bag, his heart starts beating harder, and he wonders if he’s just supposed to take the cleaner and leave like he’d intended or if he and Y/N would spend time together after. He worries because he would like to spend more time with her but he hadn’t mentally prepared himself for an actual sit down conversation, and what if he sat down but she tells him she was about to leave anyway? 

He attempted to amble over to her leisurely but he is jittery and attempting to ward away the worry that had begun swamping him as he got closer. Y/N is oblivious to his presence, looking down at an opened book with her fingers curled around a pen scribbling some things down on paper. Her headphones were tucked carefully in her ears, and her foot wobbled back and forth like she was getting impatient with herself for not knowing something already. The scene makes him not want to bother her and maybe the slight fear of rejection -- of her handing him the bag and push him off so that she could study. 

Harry doesn’t know how long he’d been looming but eventually Y/N’s eyes flicker up and she looks to the side to see him, her face brightening immediately as she all but tears the headphones from her ears and pausing the song, “Hey!” Her voice was quiet but it was still sounding so joyful, flipping her book shut with a thud and when Harry is still standing idly beside the table still her brows dip in, “Take a seat then, I’ll only keep you a second.” 

“Oh!” He moves to slip in the seat across from her, “I didn’t know if you wanted to chat or anything.” 

“Course I do,” she tells him, sliding the paper bag over to him easily, “Haven’t you been able to tell I get my rocks off on talking? Plus if you took the bag and left it’d look like a drug deal and m’not looking to lose a scholarship.” He nods, taking the crumbled bag and setting it to the side, “I did some research on how you should clean it before and after use, but it’s sort of a mouthful so I’ll say what I can but I also  wrote it down on a notecard as well. That’s in the bag too, a clear step by step guide from the best sex shop worker in the whole world to date.” She’d whispered the last bit though there weren’t many people near her though his cheeks still blossom a pink that he’s sure is apparent, “So first and foremost you want to remove the squishy part from the hard case sleeve and you can wash the case with antibacterial soap and water. You’ve got some right?” 

Harry nods, “Yeah, I’ve got some lemon scented dial. Is that okay?” It blows his mind that he can feel so comfortable chatting with her about it, considering who he is as a person, but she’s got a quality that he himself wishes he possessed. He just feels. . .good, around her. He feels like he could say anything to her and she wouldn’t judge him for it, or he could explain his whole life to her right here at this library and she would hold onto every word. 

She goes on through the step by step, detailed and slow, telling him how it easy it’ll be once he’s actually doing it though it sounds like a lot right then. “Alright Pet, I won’t bore you, I know m’better in small chunks. Thinking about avoiding the drunk tailgaters from the game.” 

Harry doesn’t know what overcomes him -- what takes ahold of that bashful being that he always is, crumples him up, and smushes that self conscious bastard like a bug -- because without thinking he asks, “Do you want to come over?” After he’d realized what the connotations of it must of seemed like (given she’d just given him sex toy cleaner with the intent of him washing it and then going to use it), so he shakes his head quickly, eyes nearly popping from his sockets as he corrects himself, “I mean to like -- I have some wine at my place, if you wanted to. . .we could hang out? Apart from all the drunk tailgaters” 

She smiles gently and in a weird way it almost looks like he’s proud of him, or maybe he’s just proud of himself for asking her in the first place and he’s merely projecting, but the smile warms him all the same. And she couples it with a small nod, “Sure,” she’d agreed, “That’d be fun.” 

                                                     .                                .                             .

The both of them were quite a bit drunk. 

After Harry had invited her, Y/N packed up her things and she asks if he’s hungry that she could order them a pizza (then sweetly asking if he was vegan). Harry tells her he doesn’t drive to school because he’s within walking distance, so he is introduced to her to her cute little car, with puffy stickers on the middle of her steering wheel, and sushi floor mats. It smelled like strawberries and cream despite the few crumpled fast food bag in the passenger seat that she promptly tosses to the back to clear the seat for him. 

She’s not the best driver, he’ll admit as much, but for what she lacks in smoothness she makes up for by giving him the aux cord and dancing along to his music no matter how eclectic the shuffle might be. Liam always makes a fuss about his obscure bands and going from something slow and soothing, to something dazzling and pop-y (still fairly unknown), and rounding it off with the guitar riff of a band’s demo he heard at his junior prom (his best friend at the time -- Jonathan Brinkmen -- shagged the bass player and swiped the demo cd off his dresser). He’d been teased by Liam, Cal, and their friend Lou that there was no way to feed off the vibe of music when it changed tone and mood with every hit of shuffle. Y/N seemed to thrive off of it, even trying to sing along though she’d no clue what the words could be. 

Harry was living for this -- to have someone who shares even one of his things he holds dear (his music taste) makes him incredibly happy. And when he sings a bit to some of the songs, she reaches over with one hand and pats his thigh enthusiastically, “Listen to you! You’re fuckin with me, n’ one of these songs is really you and your underground indie band, isn’t it?” 

He laughed though his laugh was cut short by her small squeal when she whips right into the parking lot of the pizza parlor she’d placed their order in. 

By the time they had made it to his place, his thighs had been singed hot by the bottom of the pizza box sat on his lap, and he had a brief bout of panic not remembering if he’d cleaned up his flat or not. Thankfully, by the time he’d slid the key into the lock, he remembered that he’d tidied up before he left so that he wouldn’t have to tomorrow morning. The sweet, cinnamon scent of his living room was soon tinged with the greasy cheese pizza that he slips onto the coffee table, “You can sit anywhere you’d like,” he told her and Y/N chose the floor in front of the table. 

It had started with one glass of whine and two slices of pizza before they both decided that the pizza kind of tasted like shit. Then two glasses of wine and a conversation about the upcoming Psych test that was going to be total rubbish if he didn’t extend the deadline to their essay. Then three glasses, and the both of them started getting a little giggly, and a little less reserved. Harry begins letting her into things about him that he doesn’t really tell anyone because if he wanted to tell her all about his life sober, he wanted to even more now that he’d had a few. Made his lips looser, telling her how he’d always wanted to be a singer but was too nervous to do anything about it. Had told her about the secret guitar in his closet, and the hundreds of songs he must’ve written but that’s where they’d stayed. Just forgotten poems about shit all. 

Y/N encourages him to take it somewhere and dares him to play it for her but he tells her he’d need quite a few more glasses of wine before he could do that. In turn Y/N tells him her passions; how there were things that she wanted to do but she worried that she wouldn’t be good enough. Similar to his own worries, only he’d found she’d tried a little bit of everything but she had decided that she wasn’t good enough for any of those artsy things before she could see them through. Harry had coached her the best he could through a foggy brain, reminding her that she could do anything that she truly set her mind to but she had to open herself up to the bad parts of it. Nobody was ever immediately good at something, “Van Gogh probably had a few duds before he made anything even remotely good.” 

It’d ended in her hugging him, pressing a sloppy, sticky wine kiss on his cheek and he felt his cheeks grow that same pink that she had him doing so easily. 

Harry hadn’t known how they’d ended up with his fleshlight in hand exactly, nor had he known how they ended up cleaning it together. Y/N was showing him exactly how to do it from the temp of the water, to washing out the sleeve for thirty seconds, placing his palm on either side and shaking it back and forth with the sudsy water dripping down her palms, and spray with the Fleshwash (there were quite a few steps included that he wasn’t much remembering by the time they were drying it only because he was flicking water at Y/N and Y/N was gasping, acting as if it burned, and accusing him of trying to do away with her). 

Then it was just them again, a fourth glass of wine, and then a fifth and Y/N’s got the fleshlight in her own hands. From recounting stories of the people who filter in and out of the sex shop because, “this is top secret information n’ I’m only sharing it with you because I think you’re lovely, yeah?” But then she explains to him the techniques she’s learned with the toys just in case someone asked her, and in this case she was showing him the stroking techniques she’s read and seen in porn. Up and down, twisting back and forth, telling him how some people like to use a lot of lube so that it was way slicker and messy. “Being messy is fun though -- things feel better messy, I reckon.” 

Harry agreed, swallowing a bit harder than usual as he feels his cock bulging up. He hadn’t quite meant to turn this into a perverted thing and he feels immense guilty even getting hard while he was around her. He didn’t want her to think he was some creep that was expecting anything more than drinking and hanging out with one another when he had invited her over in the first place. 

“Are you okay?” She asked him and he cursed himself for being so obvious about it as he adjusts himself, which brings her attention to his crotch, and Harry feels his heart drop to his stomach when her brows raise, “Oh.” 

“M’so sorry, I --” he shakes his head, “Talkin’ bout it kinda made me. . .” 

“You want a go at it?” She asks him and he nods, still feeling guilty, “That’s fine! I can get an uber since I’ve been drinkin’ and I’ll come round for my car in the morning --” 

“No,” he reaches out and grabs for her thigh when she’d started to stand, his eyes pleading, “I don’t -- I don’t want you to leave. You can stay the night.” 

They sit there quietly for a moment, the both of them staring at one another, Harry’s cock still filling with blood and he doesn’t know if that’s making him dizzy, or if it’s the wine, or if it’s the way Y/N bites onto her swollen, slick bottom lip but something is making his head swim. He thinks she’s so pretty and in that moment he would do anything to kiss her but he couldn’t. . .they’d barely known each on a more personal level for about a day and he’s very well considering touching himself to her tonight. 

“You could,” she hands him the fleshlight gently, their fingertips touching as she passes it off to him, “If you wanted to you could still do it. I don’t have to be in the room but --  but I’d feel bad keepin’ you from your own pleasure, y’know?” 

He swallows hard again, “You don’t have to leave the room. Is that -- is that okay?” He told her carefully and they both let that settle in the air around them, Y/N’s head going up and down with a nod, as she watches him slip the button of his jeans from the slit and takes the zipper down over the swell of his cock. The alcohol fuels him, drawing away the embarrassment he might feel with a girl seeing his prick the first time. Y/N watches on her chest raising and falling with a breath, and he wonders if her mouth might be watering -- he heard some people’s mouth water when they see someone’s cock., and he’s slipping his from his underwear. 

Harry’s hard -- his cock is standing, head engorged and his abdomen is warm, sizzling hot with the bubble of his desire. When he looks up he can see her eyes trained on him, tongue idley flitting out to lick her bottom lip and he feels himself twitch. 

When he’s reaching for the fleshlight with excited, fretted fingers, Y/N startles like she’d just remembered something and reached down into her purse, rustling through all the contents of her bag before retrieving what appears to be a bottle and when he looks closer, he sees that it’s lube. He looks at her with his head a bit tilted, and her eyes sparkle some, “I was going to put some in here with the cleaner but I thought you might have lube and didn’t want to like -- to like, over lube you.” 

A chuckle overtakes him, “Thank you,” he says softly, and he tilts the fleshlight towards her, watching as she pushes the cap up, flipping it over and squeezing a liberal amount all over it and on the inside.” 

Harry holds his prick still, turning it carefully upside right and watching as lube dribbles out of the toy and onto his cock, he hisses a bit. Y/N’s eyes don’t leave him as he positions it over his tip and her gaze holds his own when he looks up, letting it sink over his cock and his lips tremble around a moan. He sinks it down to his balls, dragging it up his shaft and fucking it back down onto him once and he lets out another deep, long groan, “Oh, fuck,” he whines. It feels so good -- it’s wet and the friction of it makes it warmer than he thought it might be. The slick, silicon tips ticking at his cock, making the most obscene squelching noise from all the lube and it makes him harder. 

He’s stiff as a pole, and when he pulls it off quick to see it slap back against his abdomen it almost feels like he’s ready to cum. Placing it back in his cock, he starts pumping up and down, twisting his wrist how she had shown him to. There’s a spot where the rounded triangular wisps turn into the little rudded bumps that rub against the head of his cock so nicely. Goosebumps riddle his arms and he feels his nipples bud up beneath his shirt, and his knees fall open so he’s spread open wide for her. 

The whole time Y/N watches with a piqued interest and he would kill to know what’s going on in her head. He wonders if he’s making her wet and if she’s got the tingles sparkling through her veins that he does, but he doesn’t know how to ask it. So he just starts talking. 

“I’m a virgin,” he murmurs, leaning his head back up against the couch, “I’ve never -- I’ve never felt something like this before.” 

Her mouth falls open some, “Christ,” she murmurs, her fingers twitching at her sides, “Is it good? I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like using one of those for the first time.” 

Harry shakes his head, bewildered, his breathing bated, “S’ indescribable,” he murmurs, “So good, n’new, and messy I -- I can’t tell what’s lube and what’s me leaking.” 

A whimper leaves her mouth, and it’s her turn to swallow thickly, “Harry,” she scoots closer, “If you keep that up, you’ll make me soak my panties. Can’t look away from you.” 

“D’ya promise?” He asks and he can feel his orgasm crawling up from his toes and the tips of his fingers, working himself so quick, so hard, the thwack of his balls against the cushioning of the toy making him tremble, “You can’t say that without -- you’re g’na make me cum.” His voice breaks towards the end, and he feels it like a threat, making his heart hammer against his chest. He can’t tell if he wants this moment to last more than he wants to cum but he can’t ward it away any longer. He’s throbbing hard, in pulses that make his hips buck up and his whole body shakes as he says, almost in a quiet panic, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” 

It’s intense. . .each spurt he’s sure would reach to his face had it not been caught by the toy and he groans so loud and lewdly he’s surprised she hadn’t shushed him for his own sake, so that he didn’t have to dodge his neighbor’s for the next few weeks. He tries to silence himself with a bite on his bottom lip but the low growl that takes him anyway is the last noise left as he twitches, feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm rumple through him. 

By the time he pulls it from his softening cock, the skin is wet with his cum and lube, and he’s not sure what to do until Y/N’s handing him the towel that he’d laid the fleshlight to dry on after they’d washed it in the first place. He’d said a quiet thank you, patting himself clean and tucking himself away in his boxers. 

They’re silent for a moment, Harry’s mind still stuck in post orgasmic clouds, before Y/N decides to be the one to break it.

“Guess we need’a clean it again, huh?”