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bifoldingTitle: 7/11
Fandom: Gundam 00
Pairing: Hallelujah/Lyle
Rating: NC-17
Notes: AU. To celebrate Free Slurpee Day last year, I wrote porn. I then proceeded to go see Borat. What did you do?
Free Slurpee Day.
Those three, simple words brought paralyzing fear to Lyle Dylandy, more than hearing "I love you" from a girl he'd just had a one night stand with, or "You are fired" from the boss of whatever the latest job he had was. To his defense, his current job as a cashier at 7-Eleven had been one that he'd managed to keep for a little over a year now, which still shocked and amazed him. The hours weren't great and the pay was barely above minimum wage, but he'd take what he could get, and after the fiasco at the pizza place he'd formerly worked as a delivery boy from, every penny counted.
Free Slurpee Day. He had only been an employee for a week when the once-a-year holiday occurred in the chain. There were explicit instructions given to him: one per customer, special 7.11 ounce cups to be given. Simple, correct? What he hadn't expected were the swarms of people who crowded the store as soon as it opened (at seven in the morning, no less), demanding their right to a costless frozen drink. The place was packed more than he'd ever seen it before in his occasional visits for coffee in the morning, and it was all too much for a newbie cashier to handle. First, the cups ran out. Then, the machines ran dry. The crowd turned into an all-out riot—how dare they be denied their slurpee—and he was thankful to make it through the day with only several bruises, a minor concussion, and a scolding from his boss.
And now, it was once again July 11th, the Day of Doom. It was 6:45 in the morning, and of course, he was opening the store that day and would be there until the middle of the night. Essentially, he'd chosen the short straw among the rest of the employees, and his boss must have decided it was a perfect time to give him the overtime hours he was asking for. People were already gathered outside of the doors when he'd gotten there fifteen minutes previous to get the store up and running, and from his vantage point at the register, the crowd was already growing.
7:00am.
Vaguely, he had a certain memory of a centuries old cartoon movie he'd seen as a child, and wondered if this was how it felt to be that one lion in it. The day went by just as it had last year, demanding shouts and curses from parents with their gaggle of six year old children, cups running out again, and generally, everything that could go wrong going wrong.
But once again, he survived it, and the store was for the most part in one piece. His face was sore from where some macho bodybuilder-type had punched it after being told that they'd run out of the drink, but at least this time he had escaped the concussion. It was extremely late now, the store was finally empty, and Lyle was currently working on mopping the floor where people had knocked over several bottles of he didn't even know. Finally, he thought, peace and quiet.
Until he heard the jingle of the bell as the door opened.
"We're done," he said, not even bothering to turn around, too exhausted to. "We're out of slurpies, I'm sorry, but we'll restock tomorrow and there's a sale on them as it—"
He nearly jumped as an arm wrapped around his waist, dragging him against the body behind him.
"You couldn't save one for me? Tsk, tsk, I'm incredibly hurt, Lyle. You have no idea," purred the voice against his ear. "I thought I was special to you."
"Yeah, you're special, alright," Lyle hissed back, recognizing the voice right away. "Okay, Hallelujah, I'm really not in the mood for your crap right now. As I'm sure you can tell, it's been a really, really rough day, and I'm cleaning up and getting the hell out of here, going home, and going to bed."
Hallelujah spun him around and raised an eyebrow. "But, my slurpee!" he mock-whined dramatically.
"To hell with your slurpee."
"I was promised one. Do you know what happens to people when they break promises to me?" Hallelujah's voice was all haughtiness, laced with a slight threat, and Lyle almost considered hitting him in the face with the mop before deciding that he quite liked living.
"Damnit, go grab a cup and see if there's anything left you can get out of the machines and leave me alone," Lyle grumbled as he went back to mopping. He heard footsteps on linoleum and the whirring of the machine as Hallelujah got his beloved drink, and the tell-tale sound of the beverage being sucked through one of those oversized straws.
And then, silence, until he felt an arm turning him around again quickly, causing him to drop the mop before he was thrown over Hallelujah's shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?!" he shouted at him as he was unceremoniously carried off, the younger man kicking open the door to the back room. Before he knew what was going on, he was dumped onto a table, Hallelujah smirking down at him with his drink still in one hand.
"You see, the slurpee's not only the thing I'm entitled to for free. I figured, hey, why not kill two birds with one stone?"
Lyle glared up at him, trying to figure out how best to escape from this. Unfortunately, the door had already closed, Hallelujah stood in the way of it, and Hallelujah was Hallelujah. All he could do, then, was glare harshly at the other man as he set down his drink in order to pull off Lyle's shows and yank off his pants far quicker than he should have been able to, along with dragging up his shirt as much as he could without actually taking it off.
"Now, Lyle, haven't you ever tasted the fruits of your own labor? Here, you've worked hard enough," Hallelujah teased as he dipped his finger into the frozen drink, scooping up a little of the green ice and smearing it onto Lyle's lips. Sour Apple, Lyle realized right away. At least he had a decent taste in flavors. The second time he did it, he decided that playing along with the game would get him out of there quicker, so he opened his mouth and proceeded to suck on Hallelujah's fingers, ignoring that the mere action was sending an ache to his lower body.
The sooner it was over, the better.
He nearly yelped when he felt frozen coldness against his nipples, Hallelujah chuckling as he rubbed the now melting liquid into the skin. "Why complain? I've heard of people using ice cubes, this isn't any different. It's supposed to be sexy! Don't you like it?"
Lyle merely cursed under his breath, and ignored the ache getting worse when Hallelujah leaned down to thoroughly lick the liquid off of him. Bit by bit, Hallelujah would pour some of the slurpee onto his body, working his way downwards with his mouth. By that point, Lyle's breath was heavy, and it was all he could do not to reach down and touch himself.
Until Hallelujah dumped the rest of the contents of the cup onto his crotch.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Lyle shrieked, thrashing on the table as Hallelujah held his wrists down. The ache was replaced by an ache of an entirely different kind—well, less of an ache and more of a sharp, horrible, horrible pain. "You son of a fucking—"
He was cut off by a harsh kiss and Hallelujah biting at his lips sharply, and Lyle could only groan in pain, cursing his luck. The mouth on his eventually retreated, moving its way downwards again, and though Lyle's wrists were released, he knew that he still wouldn't be able to move on pain of even more pain.
At the least, at the very least, Hallelujah seemed to be repeating his earlier routine. Lyle groaned a little as Hallelujah took him into his mouth, at the very least enjoying the warmth after what his poor cock had just been through. Despite the trauma, he was hard again within minutes, Hallelujah intent on licking every drop of the slurpee off of his skin and then some.
It was too early that the younger man withdrew, and Lyle was about to open his mouth to complain when he saw Hallelujah taking a small bottle out of his pocket before unbuckling and unzipping his pants, shoving them down to his thighs.
"You planned this, didn't you," Lyle drawled as he saw the label on the bottle. Lube. "Fuck you."
"To give a cliché answer, no, I think it'll be the other way around, dear." Hallelujah laughed again as he coated his fingers in the slippery liquid, taking no time in preparing Lyle—one, two, three, and Lyle's hips were bucking down onto his hand, and he was demanding that he just do it already and stop being a dick.
Maybe someone up above was listening to him, because Hallelujah actually listened, quickly slicking himself up before pressing into Lyle. Lyle bit back a moan, small sounds escaping his mouth as he was fucked on top of the table; he could have sworn there was a pencil jamming into his shoulderblade but at this point, he didn't particularly give a damn.
It could have been minutes or half an hour, he didn't know, he barely cared, but finally, he'd come with Hallelujah following suit just a minute or two later. He caught his breath, sighing as Hallelujah withdrew, and rolled over in order to grab some napkins that had been conveniently laying around in the vicinity to clean himself up.
"I hate you," Lyle shot at Hallelujah as he stood up and pulled his pants and shoes back on. "Try this again and I swear I'll—"
"You'll what?"
"...Fuck you."
The brunette ignored him and stormed out of the employee room, glad that at least no one else had been around to catch them in the act. Small blessings, he supposed; and, in a way, he had been needing to get laid lately again. Maybe it was a good thing after all, a sort of painful reward for his lack of luck. Maybe something wasn't going horribly wrong.
He whistled a little as he walked back to the register, but froze in his tracks upon reaching it.
The cash register's drawer was open, the tray flung to the side, completely empty. Immediately after, he heard the sound of a car being turned on and the screech of tires as it drove away from the store.
For a long time, Lyle just stood there. He didn't move, barely blinked, didn't say a word until Hallelujah exited the break room and headed over to him.
"...the hell happened here?" he asked, noticing the disarray of the register area.
There was only one response Lyle could give.
"Fuck my life."
Fandom: Gundam 00
Pairing: Hallelujah/Lyle
Rating: NC-17
Notes: AU. To celebrate Free Slurpee Day last year, I wrote porn. I then proceeded to go see Borat. What did you do?
Free Slurpee Day.
Those three, simple words brought paralyzing fear to Lyle Dylandy, more than hearing "I love you" from a girl he'd just had a one night stand with, or "You are fired" from the boss of whatever the latest job he had was. To his defense, his current job as a cashier at 7-Eleven had been one that he'd managed to keep for a little over a year now, which still shocked and amazed him. The hours weren't great and the pay was barely above minimum wage, but he'd take what he could get, and after the fiasco at the pizza place he'd formerly worked as a delivery boy from, every penny counted.
Free Slurpee Day. He had only been an employee for a week when the once-a-year holiday occurred in the chain. There were explicit instructions given to him: one per customer, special 7.11 ounce cups to be given. Simple, correct? What he hadn't expected were the swarms of people who crowded the store as soon as it opened (at seven in the morning, no less), demanding their right to a costless frozen drink. The place was packed more than he'd ever seen it before in his occasional visits for coffee in the morning, and it was all too much for a newbie cashier to handle. First, the cups ran out. Then, the machines ran dry. The crowd turned into an all-out riot—how dare they be denied their slurpee—and he was thankful to make it through the day with only several bruises, a minor concussion, and a scolding from his boss.
And now, it was once again July 11th, the Day of Doom. It was 6:45 in the morning, and of course, he was opening the store that day and would be there until the middle of the night. Essentially, he'd chosen the short straw among the rest of the employees, and his boss must have decided it was a perfect time to give him the overtime hours he was asking for. People were already gathered outside of the doors when he'd gotten there fifteen minutes previous to get the store up and running, and from his vantage point at the register, the crowd was already growing.
7:00am.
Vaguely, he had a certain memory of a centuries old cartoon movie he'd seen as a child, and wondered if this was how it felt to be that one lion in it. The day went by just as it had last year, demanding shouts and curses from parents with their gaggle of six year old children, cups running out again, and generally, everything that could go wrong going wrong.
But once again, he survived it, and the store was for the most part in one piece. His face was sore from where some macho bodybuilder-type had punched it after being told that they'd run out of the drink, but at least this time he had escaped the concussion. It was extremely late now, the store was finally empty, and Lyle was currently working on mopping the floor where people had knocked over several bottles of he didn't even know. Finally, he thought, peace and quiet.
Until he heard the jingle of the bell as the door opened.
"We're done," he said, not even bothering to turn around, too exhausted to. "We're out of slurpies, I'm sorry, but we'll restock tomorrow and there's a sale on them as it—"
He nearly jumped as an arm wrapped around his waist, dragging him against the body behind him.
"You couldn't save one for me? Tsk, tsk, I'm incredibly hurt, Lyle. You have no idea," purred the voice against his ear. "I thought I was special to you."
"Yeah, you're special, alright," Lyle hissed back, recognizing the voice right away. "Okay, Hallelujah, I'm really not in the mood for your crap right now. As I'm sure you can tell, it's been a really, really rough day, and I'm cleaning up and getting the hell out of here, going home, and going to bed."
Hallelujah spun him around and raised an eyebrow. "But, my slurpee!" he mock-whined dramatically.
"To hell with your slurpee."
"I was promised one. Do you know what happens to people when they break promises to me?" Hallelujah's voice was all haughtiness, laced with a slight threat, and Lyle almost considered hitting him in the face with the mop before deciding that he quite liked living.
"Damnit, go grab a cup and see if there's anything left you can get out of the machines and leave me alone," Lyle grumbled as he went back to mopping. He heard footsteps on linoleum and the whirring of the machine as Hallelujah got his beloved drink, and the tell-tale sound of the beverage being sucked through one of those oversized straws.
And then, silence, until he felt an arm turning him around again quickly, causing him to drop the mop before he was thrown over Hallelujah's shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?!" he shouted at him as he was unceremoniously carried off, the younger man kicking open the door to the back room. Before he knew what was going on, he was dumped onto a table, Hallelujah smirking down at him with his drink still in one hand.
"You see, the slurpee's not only the thing I'm entitled to for free. I figured, hey, why not kill two birds with one stone?"
Lyle glared up at him, trying to figure out how best to escape from this. Unfortunately, the door had already closed, Hallelujah stood in the way of it, and Hallelujah was Hallelujah. All he could do, then, was glare harshly at the other man as he set down his drink in order to pull off Lyle's shows and yank off his pants far quicker than he should have been able to, along with dragging up his shirt as much as he could without actually taking it off.
"Now, Lyle, haven't you ever tasted the fruits of your own labor? Here, you've worked hard enough," Hallelujah teased as he dipped his finger into the frozen drink, scooping up a little of the green ice and smearing it onto Lyle's lips. Sour Apple, Lyle realized right away. At least he had a decent taste in flavors. The second time he did it, he decided that playing along with the game would get him out of there quicker, so he opened his mouth and proceeded to suck on Hallelujah's fingers, ignoring that the mere action was sending an ache to his lower body.
The sooner it was over, the better.
He nearly yelped when he felt frozen coldness against his nipples, Hallelujah chuckling as he rubbed the now melting liquid into the skin. "Why complain? I've heard of people using ice cubes, this isn't any different. It's supposed to be sexy! Don't you like it?"
Lyle merely cursed under his breath, and ignored the ache getting worse when Hallelujah leaned down to thoroughly lick the liquid off of him. Bit by bit, Hallelujah would pour some of the slurpee onto his body, working his way downwards with his mouth. By that point, Lyle's breath was heavy, and it was all he could do not to reach down and touch himself.
Until Hallelujah dumped the rest of the contents of the cup onto his crotch.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Lyle shrieked, thrashing on the table as Hallelujah held his wrists down. The ache was replaced by an ache of an entirely different kind—well, less of an ache and more of a sharp, horrible, horrible pain. "You son of a fucking—"
He was cut off by a harsh kiss and Hallelujah biting at his lips sharply, and Lyle could only groan in pain, cursing his luck. The mouth on his eventually retreated, moving its way downwards again, and though Lyle's wrists were released, he knew that he still wouldn't be able to move on pain of even more pain.
At the least, at the very least, Hallelujah seemed to be repeating his earlier routine. Lyle groaned a little as Hallelujah took him into his mouth, at the very least enjoying the warmth after what his poor cock had just been through. Despite the trauma, he was hard again within minutes, Hallelujah intent on licking every drop of the slurpee off of his skin and then some.
It was too early that the younger man withdrew, and Lyle was about to open his mouth to complain when he saw Hallelujah taking a small bottle out of his pocket before unbuckling and unzipping his pants, shoving them down to his thighs.
"You planned this, didn't you," Lyle drawled as he saw the label on the bottle. Lube. "Fuck you."
"To give a cliché answer, no, I think it'll be the other way around, dear." Hallelujah laughed again as he coated his fingers in the slippery liquid, taking no time in preparing Lyle—one, two, three, and Lyle's hips were bucking down onto his hand, and he was demanding that he just do it already and stop being a dick.
Maybe someone up above was listening to him, because Hallelujah actually listened, quickly slicking himself up before pressing into Lyle. Lyle bit back a moan, small sounds escaping his mouth as he was fucked on top of the table; he could have sworn there was a pencil jamming into his shoulderblade but at this point, he didn't particularly give a damn.
It could have been minutes or half an hour, he didn't know, he barely cared, but finally, he'd come with Hallelujah following suit just a minute or two later. He caught his breath, sighing as Hallelujah withdrew, and rolled over in order to grab some napkins that had been conveniently laying around in the vicinity to clean himself up.
"I hate you," Lyle shot at Hallelujah as he stood up and pulled his pants and shoes back on. "Try this again and I swear I'll—"
"You'll what?"
"...Fuck you."
The brunette ignored him and stormed out of the employee room, glad that at least no one else had been around to catch them in the act. Small blessings, he supposed; and, in a way, he had been needing to get laid lately again. Maybe it was a good thing after all, a sort of painful reward for his lack of luck. Maybe something wasn't going horribly wrong.
He whistled a little as he walked back to the register, but froze in his tracks upon reaching it.
The cash register's drawer was open, the tray flung to the side, completely empty. Immediately after, he heard the sound of a car being turned on and the screech of tires as it drove away from the store.
For a long time, Lyle just stood there. He didn't move, barely blinked, didn't say a word until Hallelujah exited the break room and headed over to him.
"...the hell happened here?" he asked, noticing the disarray of the register area.
There was only one response Lyle could give.
"Fuck my life."
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