Work Text:
Work had become so routine that you weren’t expecting tonight to be any different. With the ring of the bell above the door, signaling that another night owl was coming to fill up their gas tank, you could map out your shift before it had even begun. As customers entered the brightly lit gas station, the white, fluorescent lights blaring at them as if they had just opened the gates to heaven, they would typically browse around first. A snack for their late cravings, a drink to soothe the dryness in their throat, maybe even caffeine to stay awake during their travels. Then, last but not least, they’d walk to the counter, set down their things, and turn toward their parked car, making sure they were asking for gas at the right pump.
A brief smile and a short conversation would pass during the sometimes-awkward encounter. In most cases, people left you alone. Most of the time, if not all the time, the store was empty, with only the shell of your existence occupying the front. Checking cameras, sweeping, restocking, playing games on your phone until the time passed, and you did it again. There was a luxury in this routine. You always knew what to expect and who to expect. Truckers, promiscuous husbands, sometimes wives, teenagers trying to get by with their fake I.D.’s. There was a comfort in the predictability until one night the door swung open with a powerful push, inviting in the dark night and the brisk winds that accompanied it.
“Welcome.” You murmured without even looking away from the shelf you were stocking. Nodding to the low, distorted music that came from a radio near the counter, you were immersed as you were almost done with checking off another task on your to-do list. You could hear the heaviness of the customer's footsteps, booming through the store as if he were crushing the floor beneath him.
Finishing with the last of the stock, you returned to the counter, where you sat sluggishly in your stool. Another night, observing the few cars in the darkness speeding by without the worry of deputies stopping them, except tonight, at least, the music was perfect. Tapping your fingers along the counter, you continue humming the tune of the song, rocking your head back and forth as you had forgotten where you were for a moment. But the sound of the drink bottles clinking together as the customer slammed the fridge quickly caught your attention.
You stood tall, your back stretched, your spine lengthening like a giraffe’s neck as you tried to see the towering man stomping his way toward the counter. The closer the sound of his dominant footsteps came to you, the faster your heart began to beat as you were frightened by the man’s menacing appearance. It was as if time slowed, and instead of fighting or fleeing, you froze. His height was already established, much taller than you were. The breadth of his shoulders and chest was prominent in his ash-gray shirt. The sleeves, although long, were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the roots of his veins that spread across the sturdy branches that were his forearms. He had tattoos stamped along his arms, ones that you couldn't comprehend. Wavy strands of maple brown hair dripped down to his shoulders, somewhat frizzy as if he’d survived a bit of humidity. But what was most disturbing was the mask he wore.
“20 on 3.” His voice sent a quake through your body. Deep and guttural, every word and syllable was crushed by the weight of his heavy voice. The sound of him slamming down a caffeinated drink and sugary candy awakened you from your daze. Still, you weren’t successful as you looked through the transparent holes of his charcoal black mask. Where his mouth should have been was a large metal piece, like a muzzle, covering the mask from ear to ear.
“I said…” His voice dragged out the words with irritation as you continued to stare at him.
“20 on 3. I... I'm sorry.” Your fingers trembled as you hurriedly typed on the register. Because of the mask, you assumed it would turn into a robbery, taking you from the familiarity of your work shifts into an unfamiliar and frightening situation. You scanned the sweet candy, surprised that a man like himself would prefer sweet over sour and caffeine over beer.
Before you could say the total, a breaking news announcement played on the radio:
The Satanic Slasher strikes again, making this his fifth murder. He is said to be the Satanic preacher Richard Joshua Reeves, who is alleged to have died in prison. Local authorities have no updates on this connection but urge locals to be on the lookout for a man who was last seen wearing…
The lights began shining brightly into your eyes. Their glare welcomed you as if the sun had risen and your shift was over. This was a bad dream, and you’d jump up after having fallen asleep at the counter. Without causing a ruckus, the man slowly raised his hand toward the radio and turned the knob down, silencing the woman who had begun reading the details of his appearance with perfect precision.
“Take whatever you want from the register.” Your hands shook by your sides as you held them up defensively.
“Close down shop.” His tone was one of great confidence, a demand rather than a suggestion or a request. Leaning his calloused hands on the counter, he gravitated towards you with widened eyes as he waited for your feet to obey his commands.
“But I…I could get fired.” You checked the time on your phone, frantically wondering whether to run toward the back and call the police. But you looked back at the tall, muscular man whose shadow seemed as if it could cover your entire body. It was no use. He could snatch you up, and in the blink of an eye, you’d end the shift differently from any ordinary day.
“I wouldn’t do that.” He reached towards you and gently confiscated your phone, shoving it into his back pocket. “Get to it.”
Slowly walking from behind the counter, you pass by the man you now know is the Satanic Slasher. His heavy breathing was deep inhalations of your scent as you walked by him to flip the open sign to close. You looked out into the night, waiting to see the glowing orbs of a car's headlights and envisioning the opportunity to make a run for it. On the contrary, there was a change of plans as Richard walked up behind you, reaching around your cowering frame to lock the door.
“I’m not going to tell anyone you were here.” You turned to face him, looking up into his now softened gaze and tilted head. He observed you, taking note of every vital detail of your face, and considered whether the risk of backtracking might be worth it to come back for you. So many pit stops and fueling his tank to run from the past, he’d take the chance of getting caught to visit one particular station for the exceptional customer service.
“No one is going to see that I’m here.” He pointed his head toward the light switch not far from the counter. With a deep exhale, you squeezed past his large frame, and with the flip of a switch, the gas station now appeared closed. The car you desperately wished had passed moments ago continued speeding by as the nearest gas station came to a close. Only the lights that hummed from the fridges lit the quiet station. Heavy boots thumped behind the counter as the mystery man stood before you.
He observed your body, catching the rise and fall of your chest in the low fluorescent light. The hum of the lights buzzed loudly as if they'd soon go out from a burst of energy. The man, now without doubt, Richard Reeves, wasn’t much different from the glow of the bulbs. A deep, heavy purr of his breath came from his hidden, parted lips as he was entranced by the lean clerk. You watched the other part of his pasty skin that was revealed, his neck. The bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he brought you into the dark with him. You held tight to the edge of the counter, pressing your back into it, arching your lower back. He studied the strength in your grip, the tightening of your biceps as you braced for whatever he might do. Richard assumed that lifting heavy boxes, stocking, and constant movement kept you in great shape. He leaned in closer, taking in the waft of your scent, knowing it would be more accurate if he removed his mask. He couldn’t describe the smell, but the memory it ignited in his mind was of a sunset. Notes of nurturing orange and pacifying pink. A gentle breeze that couldn’t catch his face, but he still felt its delicacy as it hit against his neck and hands. Another sniff, and his mask was buried in your hair. Slight whimpers escaped him before he realized his desperation, and soon his body was reacting faster than his mind.
Thick, heavy pulsing against the restraint of his pants, you could feel his hefty cock pressed into you. Begging for the chance to be released from the tension of his long travels, but he was too much to endure. It wasn’t surprising that with his powerful figure came something else, just as deadly.
“I’m not going to bite.” He groaned as he cupped his hand around yours and pressed your warm palm along his stiff erection. “Unless that’s what you want.”
Unconsciously, your palm squeezed gently onto his erection, feeling its length as you ran your hand up and down his shaft. With one long, aching moan, he couldn’t resist how much the softness of your touch awakened him. No longer exhausted from the mayhem he spread across town, he had not only escaped that and prison but had no idea his getaway would be a gas station rather than a resort. He lifted his arms, releasing himself of his shirt, and there you saw what appeared to be a tattoo in the shape of an eyeball, but instead of pupils, it was a pentagram for the pupil and a thinly outlined circle for the iris. The entirety of his arms was also covered with the same permanent marks of his beliefs.
“You’re really him?” You swallowed hard, pushing down the tremors between your words as a way not to seem frightened. However, Richard was the bigger man. Taller, stronger, heavier. As you looked down at your hand, which kept sliding across his length, he proved further more that he was the bigger man. Richard chuckled at your question, wondering if you’d been so oblivious to what was happening around you that you had no moment to be aware of a psycho killer on the loose.
“Why don’t you figure it out for yourself?” He began undoing his pants, his thick fingers fiddled with the buttons, soon releasing his erection that sprang out with a gratifying release. No longer hidden within the darkness of his pants, his cock was now dimly lit by the cool-toned lights. His fleshy pink tip pulsed while his cock bucked against the space between you, dying to be touched. Just as his forearms, his veins traveled through his thick shaft with the appearance of rope waiting to be untangled from the immense pleasure. The sudden gorilla grip onto the nape of your neck took you by surprise, and so did the warmth of Richard's other hand firmly grasping around your dick.
“Mhmmm. Bigger than I thought.” Richard purred as he looked down at you through the windows of his mask. Eyes appearing jaded as he relaxed into the velvetiness of your palm, stoking his cock. With his girth and length, the grasp around him felt like holding a pole. One that was thick, made with indestructible material, that even with the slightest squeeze, had no effect on him.
“Being a tease isn’t great customer service.” Richard stepped back from you and, without his knowledge, made you feel surprisingly annoyed, hungry, and just as sexually deprived as him. For once, being left alone by a customer had bothered you. Despite swallowing your needs, Richard could see on your face that you yearned for more because as he stepped further away, your eyes never found his, only his leaky tip.
You clutched your hard-on as if you’d been kicked by the power of tease. Having a mind of its own, your hand reached for your pants, and soon you groaned with a deep pleasure as you were also now relieved by the restraint of your briefs. Tonight was far from any other shift; it was one thing to fuck a customer, but an entirely different ball game to close the shop and fuck a customer who was a murderer. Pulling down your pants, Richard stroked his cock faster when he saw the carving of your muscular thighs. Skin so smooth that he doesn’t need to touch you in order to experience its delicacy. He watched as your pants fell gracefully down to your ankles and the hunger in your hands as you cupped your balls. Kneading their tightness, you wanted to release all that he had built up inside of you.
The space shortened between you both, and with no time to waste, Richard grabbed you by your waist and, with ease, lifted you onto the counter. He growled like a deprived predator finally able to indulge in the prey he had been eyeing for a moment too long. He could feel his stomach twisting into knots as you kicked off your shoes and one pant leg to spread yourself open for him. Richard began to salivate beneath his mask; the unimaginable thirst was soul-crushing, and the heat coursing through his body sent him to the brink of combustion. Slapping against your abdomen, your dick had a mind of its own as it bucked towards your stomach, staining your shirt with precum.
“Hurry up.” Your tone was impatient, determined to get what you wanted, even at the cost of your job and reputation, since you still made no effort to report him. Richard tilted his head, amused by your neediness and stunned by your confidence, which allowed you to talk to him in such a manner.
“Afraid your employer will see you being slut on the clock?” Richard slipped the weight of his cock over yours, pushing his hips forward as you both were now skin to skin. Both your breaths trembled within the hushed space, aside from the occasional speeding car, which had no idea that a human life had been spared because Richard had become occupied with another matter. His thick, weighted shaft continuously dragged along yours, warming you up for what was to come.
He dragged his palm along your sensitive tip, making your body jolt uncontrollably. Taking the mess you had made on yourself and him to lubricate a place he’d call home just for tonight. He slipped his finger inside of you, parking it there with no intention of leaving just yet, and because of it, he pushed another finger inside of you.
“Ohh, fuck.” Your head dropped back, legs opening more as your hips relaxed, and his touch became the peacemaker in this intimate interaction. A touch that meant as long as you kept quiet, you could have him however you wanted. Because as long as no one knew he was here tonight, you had the power to keep him there until sunrise. And in his mind, possibly for another night.
He retracted his fingers from you, and looking down, he saw that you were ready for him. Impatiently, you began stroking yourself, watching as he tightened his grasp around his thickness and poked at your tight entrance. The continuous nudges weren’t ones done purposefully, as even his fingers couldn’t stretch you as much as he thought. You were so tight, reserved from letting him in, even though your body yearned for it. With one more gentle push, his tip had stretched you open like elastic adapting itself to his huge cock.
“You’re a tight one. Fuck.” Richard said through gritted teeth, clenching as he eased himself further inside you. Words caught in his throat, but his body spoke in ways he wished he could say aloud. Bracing himself, he hooked each of your legs over his arms, carrying the weight of days’ worth of work. Halfway inside you, you peered down in amazement, lips parted as you panted like a deprived dog. You couldn’t believe he was completely inside you.
“Not in a rush anymore, are we?” His sarcasm made you smirk, but the push of his cock quickly made your sly smirk disappear as a deep groan took its place. Richard dug his fingers into your thick thighs, squeezing them like they’d become stress balls. At least to him, that’s what it felt like. Your ass cinched around his cock like muscle memory as if he’d fucked you before. You were perfect, taking every growing inch of him, obeying his commands, and spreading your legs open on the counter just as he had envisioned when he first walked up to it. The drink and sweet treat he had initially come for were now falling onto the floor; the can burst as it hit the ground, causing a hissing sound as liquid spewed from the faulty can.
“Fuck!” You ravenously lick your palm, gripping your dick tight as you lean on one elbow to fuck your hand at the same rhythm as Richard. His hips thrusted harder, faster, and with the purpose of making you wonder if every time the bell above the door rang, you’d hope it was him coming back.
A deep, guttural groan came from the mask you once believed to be threatening but was now one you associated with a big dick and a good fuck. Still, you knew this wouldn’t last long because one, he was a murderer, and two, he felt otherworldly.
“Never get to fuck pretty men like you on the road.” Richard placed your legs against his heated chest, now gripping your waist, he left you with no room to run. Pulling away from your he’d slam his pelvis right back into your ass, receiving the only ovation he’d ever hear from anyone.
“You’d make a good hostage.” His hands dug deeper into your skin, feeling like he could tear your flesh with one tug. Leaning his head onto your leg for support, he watched his dick retract from you with rapid speed, with your balls tightening with every stroke. You lift your shirt, showing more of your skin, which makes the ferocious beast fuck you harder. The swelling of your cock proved you were close, and you didn’t need the evidence on your uniform. Slicked with your precum, you dragged the thick viscosity all over your length, tightening your grip and losing yourself in the erotic sensory overload.
“God, your fucking…cock is s…so good.” Your words shook just like your breath, chest heaving as you tried to hold on a little while longer. But when Richard opened your legs to take control over your pulsing cock, your body melted into the frigid counter, knocking over the meticulously placed displays that held cigarettes and candy.
“A good boy like you needs a raise.” Richard rested his palms on the counter, his forehead pressed against yours as the only part of himself he’s allowed you to see was his eyes. The stories about him that played on the news were true, but this intimacy was meant only for your eyes. His gaze softened as his eyelids rested into the place of deep pleasure. His fingers dug into the smooth surface of the counter, imagining if there would be a next time. That was if you didn’t get fired. But he’d kill the person who’d dismissed you because of his selfishness. The personality trait that dangerously consumed him was that even an action meant to be heroic left blood on his hands for his own sake.
“Mhmm, killing is mundane compared to fucking you.” Richard leisurely pulled his cock away from you, then gradually shimmied his way back into your ass. The motion was so slow and deliberate, filled with great intention to make you feel how much of him you were taking. With every stroke made, Richard’s cock bucked as did yours, and with the wrap of your legs around his waist, he fastened his pace, body weighing down yours as he began to collapse onto your chest.
“I can’t last a second longer with you.” Richard nestled your face into the delicate wisps of his hair. Dropping his head in the opening of your neck, the only sound that reached your ears was the heavy grunts of his arrival. And between you both was a fountain of your cum as the thick, white drops poured from your tip and dripped onto your skin. Richard’s hips stuttered as he fed you all of his pent-up aggressions. His seed pulsing from your ass and yours down your stomach, leaving you surrounded with a mess you despise having to clean up.
Jumping down from the counter, you catch yourself on your wobbly knees, which had forgotten what standing felt like. A stack of napkins remained untouched amidst the chaos on the counter, and as you reach for them, you clean up the erotic mess. Richard was already away from the counter when you had pulled your pants up, zipping away the semi-hard dick that wished for more but knew too much time had passed by.
Richard had returned, maneuvering in the lowlight with a fresh can of his preferred drink and more candy. Placing those items down, he caught the brief cup of your hand that tried to shift around the erection that couldn’t be tamed. His reminder that a backtrack in his plan would need to take place, as he’d need to return to a particular gas station to fill his tank and for other reasons.
“Oh. Just take it. I mean, no one is going to see that you took it.” You said with a nervous laugh, gesturing at the camera you had also turned off when shutting down the shop. Richard quickly grabbed everything he needed and started to walk away. No words were exchanged as he left, since he knew there was no need for goodbyes. His boots squeaked as he stepped into the growing puddle where you had knocked over the first drink he brought to the counter. You watched his sturdy figure fade from view, hearing the click of the door lock and the jingle of the bell indicating he had left. But as the man you knew as the infamous Satanic Slasher, Richard Reeves, filled his tank and sped into the night, he secretly knew he’d return for a quick stop because he had forgotten to catch the name of the employee who kindly helped him and return his phone.