about co-workers, enemies (kind of) with benefits, filthy disgusting hate-fuck with carmy…
sometimes you get tired of him running his mouth, being rude and mean, barking orders around without a care. i’m thinking of this third season, of changing the menu everyday. i’m thinking the stress of everyone in that kitchen, carmen making tina redo the dishes, and one day he makes you redo the dish. it’s nonsense, you are out of time, your dish is actually perfect but carmen and his stupid need for every little detail to be out of this world when it’s not even necessary. so, you fight back. it’s perfect chef, there’s no need to do it again. and that starts a back and forth, him repeating if it’s not perfect, it doesn’t go out. and syd trying to help stop it, it even takes richie to interfiere. until carmen says something like if you don’t stop yapping and do what i say, maybe you are not made for this job. the dish is not perfect, so when i say redo, you redo. and if you don’t like it, then you can walk out the door and don’t come back. but that would just prove me right because you are not made for this. so, redo the dish. is that clear, chef? that brings silence, except the noise of the people eating and chatting, and the cooking going on. syd and richie just stare, they can’t believe carmen just dismissed you like your job means nothing, like you aren’t one of the best cooks in this place. and you can’t believe it either, so you stare hard into carmen’s blue deep eyes, saying yes chef and throwing the food into the trash to go back to work. and he seems guilty about it. that happens on monday. you don’t object anything else the rest of the evening, in fact, you don’t talk to him for the rest of the week.
when nat and syd had tired the fuck out of carmen, saying he should apologize. because now, the tension in the restaurant just feel like everything is about to explode. and plus to that, you two don’t fuck because you don’t even aknowledge him. so, he apologies. kind of. by text. and you don’t respond.
until you see each other on monday. and the whole day feels slow. and the end of the shift, after everyone cleans and goes home. you are waiting for him in his office, you two are absolutely alone.
i forgive you. kind of. you say, sitting on the edge of the desk while carmen closes the door.
kind of? he looks dizzy, like he can’t believe you are here and talking to him, like he missed the sound of your voice.
mhm… it will be entirely if you show it. he comes closer, your hands on his shoulders, his hands on your hips. looking at your lips, dying to get a kiss. so he gets close to your face, ready to feel your mouth. until you push him back with your hand on his chest. you will have to get on your knees first, carmen.
and he does, my god. your jeans and panties throw in the floor and his face deep in your cunt. all he tastes and feels and breaths is you, his eyes rolling back. your thighs on the sides of his head, keeping him caged (like he would dare to scape) and your hands gripping his hair. the slurping noise is disgustingly loud. you are so wet and he is so hungry. fucks you with his tongue and sucks your clit, all your juice and his spit is dripping on his chin, and it is a sight. and you moan so lost in it, not letting your opportunity to scape.
missed this cunt so much, huh? mhm, if you say you are sorry i will let you fuck it.
and he makes you cum. on his tongue. and his fingers. and his cock. apologizing for being so mean!
i’m sorry baby. pretty pussy so fucking good, i won’t let it happen again, oh… i- i won’t let this needy whore without my cock for so long, i’m sorry-
oh WOOOOOOOWWWWW another brilliant morning it seems!
but yes yes yes because sometimes carmen is just SO mean that you don’t even want to fuck the anger out. it’s easier to shove him away and make him realise that, despite everything, there actually is a line between the two of you. a difference between just right and too far.
that week where you don’t talk is agonising.
since this little deal came up, carmen has been jerking off a lot less. why would he, when he has you? but now it’s like this chore that is nagging, needing to be done. four days in and he’s completely wrecked, strung tight and more agitated than normally.
he’s slamming all the doors when he gets home, throwing his wallet on the table. carmen just wants to go to sleep and forget everything, but after he’s tugged his clothes off, ready for a shower, he notices that glint of pink fabric on his dresser.
your goddamn underwear that he stole.
and, fuck, he tries to ignore it. but his mind lingers as the hot water beats down on his back, his body having gone far too long worked up.
carmen ignores it as he dries his hair, wraps a towel around his waist. says it’s stupid, that having it around is a cruel reminder of all the nice things in life he destroys.
he picks up the fabric with intention of ridding of it, but once it’s in his palm, carmen finds his feet move in the opposite direction. his cock is stirring at the mere thought, the soft texture between his fingers, the memory of stuffing it into your mouth.
he’d washed them since then, of course, and had been intending on returning them. but, if carmen couldn’t have you, then maybe this would be fine?
so he fists the cotton tight around his cock, once again soiled with the pre that continuously spills out. carmen would never admit it, but his mind is stuck on you, unable to envision anything but your mouth, your pussy clenching around him.
do you miss him, too? he doesn’t know. probably not.
jerking off doesn’t even feel that good, either. it’s not the same. nothing will be the same, now that he’s had a taste of what you can do to him.
so carmen is quick with it, jaw tense and brows furrowed together, focusing on cumming just because he really wants to go to sleep.
it’s the image of your teary face that sends him over the edge, splattering sticky white over his abdomen. the last few drops are squeezed from his weeping cock, soaking into the pink underwear that provide a delicious friction, almost bordering on painful as he milks himself dry.
that’s the night when he finally texts you a half-apology.
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