Work Text:
Agatha has seen it all.
In just the last year: two “armed” robberies (teenagers waving dull kitchen knives), a pigeon caught in a woman’s wig (and its predictable ending: a sobbing bald woman), an individual of undetermined sex stripping naked (sex thus determined) in the cereal aisle and letting one rip right there on the linoleum floor.
All of this to say: Agatha is unphasable. Agatha likes to think that she’s achieved a level of zen established only within Buddhist monks.
She’d first taken this job to spite her mother. Evanora Harkness, CEO of multimillion dollar corporation Harkness Corp, could suck it. She would have to accept that her only daughter worked as a supermarket cashier at a Walmart, no less. Evanora had taken it just as well as Agatha had predicted: terribly.
To be honest, Agatha hadn’t expected to last this long. After multiple incidents (various arrests, death threats, etc.) within her first week on the job and Evanora angry enough to threaten to sell all of Agatha’s stocks in the company, Agatha was ready to return to the corporate world, confident she’d proven her point to her mother.
But somewhere along the line—Agatha can’t pinpoint the exact moment, though she thinks it occurred somewhere between Pissing Pete (the first time) and Pissing Pete (the second time)—she grew to enjoy the unpredictability of working here. She likes that everything feels inconsequential; nothing she says or does carries the risk of plunging an entire market’s stocks into the ground.
Agatha has been working here long enough to accrue a few regulars. There’s Jessica, who comes in every weekday afternoon to purchase a bottle, sometimes two, of cheap screw-cap white wine. Gerald, seventy years old and divorced four times, who asks Agatha for her phone number every time he comes in. Billy, whose ID Agatha is fairly certain is fake but purchases exclusively beverages: cheap plastic handles of Vodka, Celsius, 5-hour energy shots.
Because her Walmart has many checkout lanes and Agatha only works certain shifts, customers become regulars only when they like her (Billy and Gerald) or when they’re ashamed of their purchases and know Agatha won’t judge (Jessica). In other words, it takes effort to become a regular.
So Agatha is surprised when a new customer worms her way into the category.
Agatha doesn’t notice her at first. She rings up the boxes of frozen Eggo waffles, licorice candies, and paper towels with practiced ease.
“That’ll be 16.32,” Agatha says, looking up finally.
And comes face to face with the most stunning human she’s ever seen. A well-known fact: nobody looks good in Walmart lighting. Undereye shadows accentuate, skin goes pallid, colors dull into weak imitations of vibrance. But this woman defies it all.
Agatha feels her jaw drop. She might be drooling a little bit. At least Smoking Hot is too busy trying to pay to notice.
“It isn’t working,” she says.
Agatha blinks back into reality. “What?”
“The cardreader.” Smoking Hot looks up at her. Her eyes drop down to Agatha’s blue vest, her elastic-waist pants. Agatha flushes.
“Did you try to insert? The swipe is finicky," Agatha says, trying to subtly pull the back of the vest tighter to give herself some semblance of shape. Screw Walmart and its most unflattering uniform of all time.
Smoking Hot presses the card into the reader. It accepts with a beep. She removes the card and says, “Thanks, Agatha.”
Agatha stares. “How do you know my name?”
Smoking Hot points at her chest. At first, Agatha thinks that she’s referring to the embroidered patch on her shirt, which reads, “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowgirl.” Then Agatha realizes that she’s referring to the parallel spot on Agatha’s vest where her nametag sits.
“Oh,” Agatha says. She can feel the heat in her cheeks and prays that the terrible lighting will hide it.
Smoking Hot nods, picking up her bag. “Thanks,” she says again and saunters out.
Agatha watches her go, admiring the way her jeans hug her legs.
“You never told me you were a lesbian.” It’s Billy, heaving two handles of Nikolai and a boatload of energy drinks onto the conveyor belt.
Agatha sighs wistfully and tears her eyes away from the retreating customer. She begins ringing him up. “You couldn’t tell?”
Billy cocks his head. “I guess you are kind of butch. I thought it was the uniform, though.”
Agatha rolls her eyes. “Please don’t comment on this uniform anymore. I feel like an old hag in it.”
“You don’t look like an old hag,” Billy says consolingly. “Just a little—”
Agatha glares at him. “If you finish that sentence, I’m going to start scanning your ID.”
Billy raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry! Sorry, I won’t.” He smiles very sweetly. “You look beautiful, Agatha.”
“That’s more like it.”
Billy pays for his things and lifts the bags into his arms. “Maybe switch out the pants though. Makes you look… matronly.”
He is too far away from the counter for Agatha to reach across and hit him. Smart boy.
“You little rat!” Agatha shouts after him as he scurries away. “I’m scanning you next time!”
Billy throws up a heart with his hands and disappears out of the sliding doors.
Agatha isn’t sure that she’s ever going to see Cowgirl (as Agatha has taken to calling her, implications be damned) again. Agatha has probably scared her away with her matronly pants and undisguised staring. She self-soothes by reminding herself that she doesn’t want to be with someone who chooses to buy black licorice out of all the far superior candies anyways.
But the next day, Cowgirl is there again. Agatha blinks a few times to make sure she’s real and not a figment of her imagination. But there she is. Her long-sleeve shirt dips just low enough that Agatha can see the silver chain glistening around her throat. As if she couldn’t get any more attractive.
This time, Cowgirl lays out a gallon of oatmilk, more licorice, a set of shampoo and conditioner.
“Ran through yesterday’s licorice already?” Agatha says, ringing her up. Thank god she’d (reluctantly) listened to Billy’s advice and switched out the pants for a more flattering pair of jeans.
Cowgirl smiles wryly at her. “I didn’t know you guys kept track of purchases.”
Agatha shrugs. “I remember when people buy seven bags of black licorice. That’s disgusting, by the way.”
“It's an acquired taste.” Cowgirl looks affronted. “What kind of candy do you like?”
“Kit Kats. But to be honest, anything is better than licorice.”
“Duly noted, Agatha,” Cowgirl says, and honestly, how did Agatha not notice yesterday the way she says her name? Lower, smoother, sweeter. Agatha could melt.
“That’s not fair,” Agatha manages weakly. She finishes bagging the items and directs the payment to the card reader. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
Cowgirl cocks her head, considers her. “I’m Rio.”
“Rio,” Agatha repeats. “That’s a nice name.”
Rio presses her card into the reader. “Now we’re even.”
“Yeah,” Agatha says, disappointed when the payment goes through without trouble. She wants to keep talking to Rio. “Don’t run through the licorice too quickly. It’ll ruin your teeth.”
Rio picks up her bag and shoots her a sly smile. She has such nice teeth. “If you insist.” She winks. “See you around, Agatha.”
Agatha stares after her. Fucking hell.
Agatha is disappointed when Rio doesn’t come in the next day. Which is ridiculous, of course. Nobody needs to buy groceries that often.
The entire day is uneventful. She rejects Gerald’s proposition for the nth time, coaxes Jessica into buying just one bottle instead of two, helps cut a customer out of a too-small dress in the fitting room. Then she gets a text from an unknown number.
#: agatha agatha
#: ist his her?
#: ???
Following is a selfie of Billy at a parking lot. In the background, in motion and far away but just barely recognizable, is Rio.
A: Billy? How did you get my number?
B: don’t worry abt it
B: so is it her?
A: If I say yes, are you going to do something stupid?
A: Billy.
A: Billy.
A: I swear, I have the scanner ready. I’ll snap your ID in half.
She doesn’t get a reply.
“What did you do to her?” Agatha demands when Billy has the gall to appear in her sight the next day.
“Nothing,” Billy says, eyes going wide. “I swear!”
Agatha brandishes the handheld scanner in her hand. “Billy, you better be honest. Or I’m going to scan that ID of yours and find out that you’re not 21, and bam, no more alcohol for you.”
“I swear, I didn’t say anything to her about you.” Billy presses his palms together.
“You didn’t say anything about me.” Agatha narrows her eyes.
Billy sighs, dropping his hands. “Fine. Maybe I did say that some women like when other women show off their tattoos. But I didn’t say your name a single time. I swear!”
Agatha stares at him. “I’m never telling you anything again.”
“I was trying to help!”
“By making me even hornier when I’m around her? You know I can’t focus when I’m horny!”
“TMI. I didn’t know that, actually.” Billy frowns.
“You could’ve made an educated guess,” Agatha hisses. She points at the door. “Go.”
Billy puts on his puppy-dog eyes. “C’mon, Agatha. I was just trying to help. Please?”
Agatha glares at him. Billy pouts back.
“Fine,” Agatha seethes, beginning to scan his items. Stupid puppy dog eyes. “But you’re on thin fucking ice, kid.”
The ramifications are even worse than she’d imagined.
Rio shows up the next day wearing a wifebeater. As if this isn’t enough to get Agatha embarrassingly turned on, said wifebeater reveals veined muscular arms, and, of course, the tattoos. It turns out that Rio has an entire sleeve of them. There’s a giant moth, a jeweled key, a skull. They go all the way up her arm and disappear behind the fabric of her shirt.
“You’re so hot,” Agatha blurts when she sees her.
Rio raises an eyebrow.
Agatha’s face burns. “As in, it’s so hot in here, you must be so hot. Not that you’re hot. I mean, you are. But I would never say that because that would be unprofessional and weird. Obviously.”
Rio looks amused. “Thanks, I think.”
Agatha considers dying on the spot. Instead, she stares more at Rio’s arms. They flex as she moves items from her cart to the belt. Agatha licks her lips unconsciously. She imagines them holding her down, pinning her in place as Rio’s fingers drive into her, over and over. Agatha is going to kill Billy.
Somehow, Agatha remembers to scan Rio’s items: two salmon filets, a bunch of broccolini, a bottle of expensive wine. A bouquet of flowers.
Agatha says lightly, “Date night?”
Rio laughs. “No. My sister is in town. Thought I’d do something nice for her.”
“Oh,” Agatha says. A flush of relief through her. It is the same relief that pushes Agatha to ask, “So do you have a partner?”
“No, I don’t.” Rio studies her as Agatha bags all of her items. Agatha pointedly does not look at her. “Do you?”
Agatha shakes her head. “Too busy bagging groceries.”
Rio hums as she pays. “That’s surprising.”
“What do you mean?” Agatha cocks her head, handing Rio her bag.
For the first time, Rio looks flustered. She gestures vaguely at Agatha. “I mean, look at you.”
Agatha does look at herself. In her blue vest and flared jeans. She grimaces. “You should see me outside of work. I promise I’m even cuter in normal clothes and natural lighting.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Rio winks again, that fucker. “I guess I’ll have to see it for myself one day, huh?”
Agatha nods dumbly and watches her go.
Gerald comes in the next day. Agatha rings up his automatic pill dispenser and hot pink bullet vibrator.
“The vibrator is for my third ex-wife,” Gerald informs her. “To remind her of what she’s missing.”
“Oh,” Agatha says. “How nice.”
Gerald leans his elbow against the counter. He’s close enough that Agatha can smell the tuna on his breath. “Have I told you how pretty you are?”
Agatha bags his items, trying not to roll her eyes. After an incident this morning which involved dentures and a near miss from an electric wheelchair, Agatha is working on respecting her elders. “Yes, Gerald, you have.”
“So when can I get your phone number?” Gerald smiles at her. Agatha can see his missing teeth.
“We’ve been over this.” Agatha hands him his things. “I’m not going to give you my phone number.”
“Even though I’m your favorite customer?”
Agatha sighs. “Even though you’re my favorite customer.”
“I’ll try again next time.” Gerald waves a hand and toddles off.
“I know you will,” Agatha says under her breath.
“Favorite customer?” A now familiar voice prompts. Rio is examining the gum selection, plucking a pack of spearmint and adding it to her basket. “I thought I was your favorite.”
“You haven’t earned it yet.” Agatha crosses her arms.
“Oh, yeah?” Rio’s eyes sparkle when they meet hers. “And how do I do that?”
Agatha shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Rio hums and begins to set her things on the conveyor belt. There’s a clear theme. A book titled I Prefer Girls. An olive green carabiner. A set of pride flags, the ones you stab into the dirt around the perimeter of the front yard during holidays. And the pack of gum.
Agatha raises an eyebrow as she scans. “Patriotic, are we?”
“It’s June,” Rio says, shrugging. She looks up at Agatha through her eyelashes. “Any chance you also happen to be celebrating?”
Agatha bags her things. “If you’re asking me if I’m a lesbian, the answer is yes.”
Rio hums. She takes her bag from Agatha. “Good to know.”
Rio shows up earlier than usual the next day. She holds up a paper bag. “Lunch?”
Agatha follows Rio outside to a line of benches. It’s a nice day, blue-skied and warm. Agatha leans against the back of the bench and lets the sunlight wash away the bad Walmart aura that she’s sure surrounds her like a cloud. Rio hands her a wrapped sandwich.
Agatha weighs the sandwich in her hand. “You’re not going to poison me, are you?”
“No,” Rio says. “I like you too much to do that.”
“I’m flattered.” Agatha unfurls the brown wax paper, revealing a pesto chicken sandwich, no tomatoes and romaine subbed for arugula. She blinks at Rio. “How did you know my order?”
“Lucky guess.” Rio unwraps her own sandwich. Agatha blinks some more. “Come on, I promise I didn’t poison it.”
Agatha relents and takes a bite. “So, like, do you work?”
Rio frowns mid-massive-bite. “Obviously.”
“Well, you’re always here at random times. When normal people are working.”
Rio shrugs, swallowing. “I’m self-employed.”
Agatha narrows her eyes. “Usually, that’s lingo for unemployed.”
“I run a business,” Rio says, uncapping a bottle of Diet Coke. She offers it to Agatha and then opens her own. “I have managers that oversee day-to-day, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Agatha takes a sip. “CEO, huh? You don’t look it.”
Rio frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Agatha looks pointedly at her wifebeater and cargo pants. Then, for the first time, she notices the watch around her wrist. Agatha’s grown up around enough wealthy people to recognize an expensive watch when she sees one.
“Nice watch,” she says, raising her eyebrows.
Rio snorts, lifting her wrist. Sure enough: Rolex. “Perks of working in finance.”
“My mom’s in finance, too.”
“Yeah?” Rio tilts her head. “What does she do?”
“Wealth management.” Agatha takes a bite of her sandwich. “Runs her own firm. She does pretty well for herself.”
Rio nods, chewing thoughtfully. “If I can ask, what are you doing here then?”
“To spite my mom,” Agatha says, dusting her palms off. “At first. Now, I actually enjoy it. My days are never the same. And I don’t have to spend all my time schmoozing up to snobby men.”
“Good take.” Rio chuckles. “So I take it you don’t have a great relationship with your mom.”
“With my entire family.” Agatha shrugs, picking up the sandwich again. “Haven’t had someone cook me a meal since I was ten.”
A pause. They eat some more. Agatha watches customers stream in and out of the store, hauling big silver carts behind them. A pigeon flits dangerously close to a woman’s large hair, and Agatha has brief war flashbacks.
Agatha asks, “What are you doing here?”
Rio polishes off her sandwich and licks her fingers. Agatha watches this movement keenly. “Can’t I get lunch with my favorite Walmart employee?”
“No.” Agatha crosses her arms. “Not without a reason.”
“Maybe I like this store.”
“Nobody likes this store.”
“It has good vibes,” Rio says defensively.
Agatha stares, unblinking.
“Fine,” Rio says, staring back. “I like you, okay?”
“What specifically do you like about me?”
Rio groans. “Seriously, Agatha? What are we, fifth-graders?”
“What, can’t name a single thing?” Agatha challenges, raising her eyebrows.
“No, I just…” Rio suddenly becomes very interested in the cement tiles beneath her feet. “You’re confident. You’re gorgeous, obviously. And you’re kind of a brat, which happens to be my type in women, apparently.”
Agatha preens. “You think I’m gorgeous?”
Rio takes a long drink of her soda. “I think that was pretty obvious.”
Agatha hums. “Okay, you pass.”
“I didn’t realize this was a test.” Rio wets her lips when she looks at Agatha. “What do I get as a reward?”
Agatha looks back at her. Her heart is doing weird stuttering steps in her chest. “What do you want?”
“I want to bring you lunch tomorrow,” Rio says without missing a beat.
“Okay,” Agatha says, swallowing. “You can do that.”
Rio smiles. It’s a really nice smile. “For the record, you do look cuter in the light.”
Agatha blushes all the way down to her toes.
And so begins their daily lunches.
It’s nice. In fact, they quickly become the highlight of her day. Agatha tells Rio about her day, which usually involves some outlandish impossible-to-make-up Arrested-Development-esque scene. Rio tells Agatha about work but mostly prefers to listen. Even so, Agatha begins to learn little things about her, bit by bit.
Rio’s sister is actually her twin, for one. Rio speaks Spanish fluently (this fact had been accompanied with a demonstration, which made Agatha’s cheek flame so hard that she’d had to chug an entire bottle of ice cold water). Rio has a dog named Nicky, short for Nicholas.
She finds out that Rio likes to cook. Agatha learns this not through questioning but instead when Rio appears one day with a lunchbox in hand. She hands Agatha a plastic tupperware filled to the brim with fresh ravioli swimming in a red sauce.
Agatha blinks at it, then at Rio. “Did you cook this for me?”
Rio’s cheeks are pink. “It’s not a big deal. I had some food I needed to use up in my fridge.”
“Oh, Rio,” Agatha says, unable to explain why this means so much to her. “Thank you.”
Rio hands her a fork. “Don’t thank me yet. Try it first. You might not even like it.”
Agatha does, of course.
In return for more and more frequently home-cooked meals, Agatha brings Rio little gifts she’s snatched from the store. Cupcakes and cookies from the bakery. A slab of steak from the butcher, which appears in the pasta Rio cooks for her the next day. Once, the nursery is overstocked on tulips, and Agatha takes some before she can think about it.
“For you,” Agatha says, shoving the bouquet into Rio’s arms.
Rio stares at them, an expression Agatha can’t read on her face. “Agatha…”
“They were going to get thrown out anyways,” Agatha says, not looking at Rio. “Don’t overthink it.”
She dares to take a peek at Rio. Her eyes are unspeakably soft. Agatha forces her own face to remain still, despite the smile that threatens to break out.
Agatha clears her throat. “So what’s for lunch?”
“Bear with me,” Rio says, appearing at her counter. This is unusual. Since lunch has become routine, Agatha has started meeting Rio out front.
Rio lays two boxes out on the conveyor belt. Agatha stares at them with dawning horror.
“Which would you prefer?” Rio says this like she’s asking Agatha for her choice between two flavors of ice cream. Rio gestures between the two dildos. “Take your pick.”
“Wha—I don’t, you’re… what?” Agatha sputters.
Rio looks at her and speaks slower, as if Agatha is completely overreacting. “Which would you rather be fucked with?”
Agatha stares. Unbidden, she’s barraged with images of Rio wearing a strap, Rio fucking her with a strap, Rio bending her over and pulling her hair and calling her names. Her entire body feels like it might burst into flames. Rio sighs.
“Okay, this one,” Rio points at the baby pink one, “is curved, so it’ll reach deeper. But this one,” she gestures towards the other one, “has the ridges along the side, you see? That’ll add friction when it’s inside you.”
“Inside me?”
Rio ignores her. “Of course, a lot of this depends on the user. But I’m very experienced, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Agatha pinches the back of her hand. She must be dreaming. She is so turned on she can’t speak.
“Agatha?” Rio snaps her fingers in her face.
“Yeah.” Agatha hasn’t woken up. Not a dream, then. “Ridges sound good.”
“Yeah?” Rio considers it, turning the box around to read the back. “If that’s what you want.” She hands it to Agatha, who is still gaping. “Are you going to ring me up or…?”
“Mhm,” Agatha says. She moves on autopilot, scanning the dildo and then dropping it into a bag. “What exactly is going on?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rio says, plucking the bag from Agatha’s hand. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
And then she’s gone.
When Rio comes up to the counter the next day, she doesn’t have anything with her.
“Hi,” Rio says.
“Hi,” Agatha says.
Rio takes a step back and widens her stance. Agatha’s eyes drop to her crotch. Where there’s a subtle but undeniable bulge beneath her gray sweatpants. Agatha feels her mouth go bone dry.
Rio says, “Thoughts?”
Oh, Agatha has thoughts.
“Come with me.”
Agatha is moving before she can think too hard about it, dragging Rio towards the back of the store. She pushes the door open and, confirming that there are no other employees in the break room, crashes her lips against Rio’s.
Rio kisses her like she wants to consume her. Agatha moans into her mouth, loops her arms around Rio’s neck and pulls her closer.
“Easy, tiger,” Rio says, laughing against her mouth. She pulls away, panting. “Should we lock the door?”
“It doesn’t lock,” Agatha says, trying to kiss her again. Rio catches her chin with her hand. “Nobody comes in here, I promise. It’s just us.”
“Okay,” Rio says.
When she kisses her again, it’s slower, softer. Agatha melts into her, letting Rio back her up against a table. Rio slides her hand into Agatha’s hair, tugging lightly. Agatha moans, heat shooting straight down to her cunt.
“Rio,” Agatha whines, trying to grind against her.
Rio shushes her, kissing her forehead, the arch of her eyebrow, the tip of her nose. “Let me take care of you, baby.”
With her hands on Agatha’s hips, Rio hoists Agatha up onto the table, moving to stand between her readily spreading legs. Agatha gasps at the show of strength, clutching Rio’s shoulders. Rio shoves the vest off and helps her take her shirt off. Rio’s eyes darken at the sight of her heaving breasts.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” Rio says, cupping her breasts in her palms.
Agatha whines when she squeezes her over her bra, then hooks her fingers beneath and finds her nipples. They stiffen immediately between Rio’s fingers.
“Can you get on with it?” Agatha snaps, tilting her hips in an attempt to grind against the table.
Rio’s fingers tighten to a pinch. Agatha moan tapers into a pained whimper.
“You’re going to take what I give you,” Rio tells her. Her voice has dropped, low and authoritative. Every cell in Agatha’s body rises to obey. “Like a good girl.”
Agatha buries her face in the crook of Rio’s neck to hide the way her cheeks immediately flame. She feels Rio unhook her bra to knead her breasts, her thumb swiping across her sensitive nipples. She goes on like this until Agatha is making little wounded noises into her skin, so turned on it hurts.
“Please,” Agatha gasps finally. She can feel the stickiness between her legs, probably soaking through her pants. “Rio, please.”
“Such nice manners,” Rio purrs. She cups Agatha over her pants. Agatha grinds into the offered friction, moaning quietly. “So wet, baby. I can feel you already.”
She unbuttons Agatha’s pants with one hand and slips her hand inside. Rio shoves the gusset of her underwear to the side and runs two fingers through her slick. Agatha feels herself clench around nothing, the torture of emptiness. Rio drags her fingers away from her entrance to her clit, circling gently. Agatha bucks, whines.
“Inside,” Agatha pleads.
“Okay, sweetheart.” Rio presses two fingers into her. Agatha grasps at the edge of the desk. “There you go. That feel better?”
Agatha nods frantically. Rio fucks her with long deep strokes, curling her finger each time she reaches the knuckle. Her free hand finds Agatha’s breast again, rolling her nipple between the pads of her fingers. Agatha can feel her stomach tightening, the beginnings of an orgasm rippling through her, and she wants that but not like this, not like this—
“Wait,” Agatha gasps, squirming. Rio takes the hint, pulling out. Agatha whimpers at the loss. “I want, I want…”
Agatha can’t properly formulate words, so she slides off of the desk and onto her knees. Rio understands immediately, groaning.
“Fuck, baby.” Rio unzips her pants, pulling out her cock. It’s bigger than it looked in the box. Agatha’s mouth waters. “You want to suck my cock? Is that it?”
Agatha nods, whines, “Please, please.”
“Go ahead,” Rio says.
Rio sweeps Agatha’s hair into a loose ponytail and uses her hold to guide Agatha closer. Agatha parts her lips, taking Rio into her mouth. She looks up at Rio through her eyelashes.
“Fuck, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” Rio tells her, rocking her hips forward. Agatha gags, her eyes watering. “Good girl. Look at you.”
Agatha whines, hands coming up to grasp at Rio’s thighs. She shifts on her knees, pressing her thighs together. It isn’t nearly enough pressure, but it satisfies some of the ache. Agatha moans, tipping further onto Rio’s cock.
Rio looks down at the sound and frowns. With her foot, she kicks Agatha’s knees apart. Agatha whimpers at the cool air against her hot cunt, and again when Rio jerks her hips forward, forcing Agatha to gag.
“Did I say you could do that?” Rio’s hand tightens in her hair. “You wanted this. Do it properly.”
But Rio is done letting her control the pace. With the grip on her hair, Rio begins to force her onto her cock, using her mouth for her own pleasure. Agatha lets her jaw go slack. She’s drooling around Rio’s cock, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her makeup is ruined.
“Look at you,” Rio grunts. She must feel the pressure of the hilt against her clit, because her breathing has gone ragged. “Such a pretty girl, letting me use your mouth.”
Agatha whines, fingers tightening on Rio’s thighs. Her thoughts have gone fuzzy, and all she can think about is Rio, Rio’s hands fisted in her hair, Rio’s thighs trembling around her head, Rio’s breaths coming out shorter and shorter.
With a cry, Rio comes, thrusting forward into Agatha’s mouth.
When she pulls out, there’s a strand of slick connecting Agatha’s lips to the tip of her cock. Rio cups her cheek and swipes her thumb against Agatha’s bottom lip.
“You’re so pretty when you cry,” Rio tells her, voice cracked. She presses her thumb into Agatha’s mouth. Agatha sucks on it, swirling her tongue around the tip. “Fuck, Agatha.”
Before she can process the movement, Rio lifts her up, turning her around to press her over the table. Agatha groans when her nipples come in contact with the cool varnished wood, and again when Rio pulls her pants and underwear down around her knees.
“Ready, baby?” Rio slaps her ass.
“Yes.” Agatha pushes back against her, unashamed. “Please, Rio, fuck me, fill me up…”
Rio thrusts into her all at once. Agatha moans, fingers scrabbling at the tabletop. Rio’s hand finds her hip to keep her pinned against the edge as she introduces a punishing pace. Agatha is so full her head spins.
“There you go, sweetheart,” Rio says, hand coming down on her ass again. Agatha cries out. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take my cock.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Agatha gasps. She can’t do anything but take it, body pinned down by Rio’s weight, cheek pressed to the table. The helplessness is intoxicating.
Rio’s arm loops around her waist to find her clit. That’s all it takes for Agatha to tumble over the edge, moaning Rio’s name over and over again.
But that isn’t enough. Rio doesn’t stop thrusting, continues rubbing her clit.
“I can’t,” Agatha whines, squirming beneath her. She’s crying again, tears slipping down her cheeks in a continuous stream. “It’s too much, I can’t—”
“You can take it,” Rio soothes, leaning over her body to kiss her shoulder. “One more, Agatha.”
Agatha has no more control over her body, her hands flailing out. Rio catches her wrists easily, pinning them together at her lower back. Agatha moans, eyes rolling into the back of her head.
“Yeah? You like that?” Rio’s voice is heavy with exertion. “You’re so tight, baby. I can barely move.”
“Please please please,” Agatha slurs, not sure what she’s begging for anymore, just taking and taking.
“Come for me, baby,” Rio murmurs.
Rio applies more pressure to her clit. Agatha sobs through her orgasm, clamping down around Rio’s cock. Her vision goes black for a moment before it returns. Rio releases her wrists, and Agatha slumps against the table, boneless.
“God, you’re amazing,” Rio murmurs, stroking her hair. “I’m going to pull out, okay?”
Agatha nods, whimpering quietly when Rio slides out of her with a slick pop. Slowly she comes back into her body, pushing herself off the table and pulling her pants back up. Rio disappears for a moment and returns with a cup of water.
“Drink,” Rio says.
Agatha drinks greedily. She can still taste Rio on her tongue.
“That was the right choice,” Agatha says at last, voice hoarse.
Rio’s brows furrow. “What?”
“The ridges.”
Agatha’s eyes drop to where it’s still peeking through the fly of Rio’s pants. She’s glistening with evidence of Agatha’s arousal. Agatha licks her lips.
“Come here.” Agatah sets down the water cup, sitting up in the chair.
Rio raises an eyebrow, following Agatha’s gaze. “Seriously?”
“Deadly,” Agatha says, licking her lips. “Now get over here.”
B: OMG!!!! rio texted me that y’all hooked up in the break room
B: congrats!!!!
A: What
A: Why are you two even in contact?
A: Why do you have her phone number before I do?
B: no comment
“So,” Rio saunters up to her counter the next morning, looking entirely too pleased with herself, “think I’ve earned the title of favorite customer yet?”
“I’d say you’re pretty close,” Agatha says, crossing her arms over her chest.
Rio hums. She sets a bouquet of flowers and a bag of Kit Kats on the conveyor belt.
Agatha stares. “No, don’t do it.”
Rio blinks innocently. “What?”
Agatha rings her up with barely concealed exasperation. Rio takes the bag from her, removes the receipt, and hands it right back.
“Agatha,” Rio says, eyes sparkling. “Will you allow me to take you out tonight?”
Agatha rolls her eyes. She’s smiling too wide for it to really mean anything. “Yeah, I will. You fucking dork.”
Billy has created a new group chat with Agatha Harkness, Rio Vidal.
B: AHHHHHH
B: YAYYYAYY CONGRAYS
B: LETS GO LESBIANS
A: I’m going to block you.
B: you won’t
B: you know you love me
R: Get a hold of your kid Agatha
A: He’s not mine.
B: YAY LESBIANS YAY
Agatha Harkness has left the group chat.
Rio Vidal has left the group chat.
B: guys
B: guys?