18+ Adult Content | All characters are 18+ | Explicit MM themes | 100% Pure Fiction
The next day happened faster than Cody would have wanted.
As soon as he woke up, his stomach was in knots. He was supposed to be excited, but instead it just felt like one more thing he could add to his list of ways Jason annoyed him.
Cody went to the clothes he had laid out the night before and slowly put each article on, making sure everything looked right. He wanted to make the best impression.
He got in his car, checked his mirrors, and pulled out to see how the day was going to go.
It only took five minutes to get to Freshway. He parked his old car and took a deep breath. He checked the mirror again and made sure his hair was in order.
Twenty minutes early, he thought with a smile.
Then he walked into the grocery store.
Cody had been to this store countless times as a kid. The layout had not changed since he was four years old and riding under the buggy while his mom shopped for the family. As soon as the doors slid open, a blast of cold air washed over him, a sharp contrast to the Texas summer heat outside.
This is going to be ok. He probably is not even going to show up today, Cody assured himself.
The training room was a sterile, windowless space that smelled faintly of floor cleaner and old paper. A handful of other new hires were already sitting inside.
At the front of the room stood Debby, a middle-aged woman with plump curves. When she shook Cody's hand, the firmness of her grip gave away years of hard work.
“Hi, Cody. So glad you made it. And early too.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Cody said. “I wanted to make sure I made a good impression.”
Debby chuckled, clearly pleased. “Well, we are glad to have you as part of the Freshway family. We will get started in just a few minutes.”
Cody scanned the room as he picked his seat. The knot in his stomach loosened a little more with each passing second.
There was no sign of Jason.
A wave of relief washed over him and he smiled to himself.
Of course. Jason had been lying. It was just another one of his crude attention-seeking performances, just like meeting that guy in the bleachers. The thought only confirmed Cody's view of him.
Jason was all talk.
“Alright, let's get started,” Debby announced, her voice a little too loud for the small room. “We are just waiting on one more person, and then we can begin with the welcome packet.”
The knot in Cody's stomach tightened again.
For a moment he almost stood up to ask Debby if the name on her list was Jason Archer. He knew that would not help anything, but he could feel his heart beating faster as they sat there waiting.
He tried to fill out his new hire forms, but all he could hear was the thumping of his own heartbeat.
Five full minutes passed in the humming silence.
Debby was about to speak when the door creaked open.
Cody's heart jumped.
Jason strolled in. Not with an apology or an excuse, but with the relaxed confidence of someone who had never worried about being late a day in his life.
His eyes swept the room once.
Then landed on Cody.
He was wearing a fitted black t-shirt that clung to the shape of his chest and shoulders, along with a pair of worn jeans that hugged his lean hips. His messy dirty-blonde hair looked even more disheveled than usual, and a faint rosy flush colored his tan cheeks.
He gave the room a lazy grin.
“Sorry I'm late,” Jason said casually. “Got a little distracted.”
Debby sighed.
“Jason. Grab a seat. We have just started.”
Cody's relief instantly turned into irritation.
So he had not been lying.
Jason was actually here.
And he was late, ignoring the basic rule of showing up on time for your first day of work as if it were nothing.
Cody clenched his jaw. His polite smile felt brittle as he focused on the laminated safety procedures in front of him, trying to ignore Jason completely.
Jason slid into the empty chair beside him.
Cody didn’t look up, but he felt it instantly. The shift in the air. The warmth of someone sitting too close.
The scent of fresh air, faint sweat, and something warm and earthy followed him in.
Jason leaned closer and spoke in a quiet voice that brushed Cody's ear.
“You look disappointed, PG.”
Jason tilted his head slightly.
“Were you hoping I wouldn’t show?”
Cody kept his eyes forward.
“I was hoping training would start on time,” he said coolly.
“Ah well,” Jason murmured as he leaned back in his chair. “Couldn't be helped. There is a park right next door. Very secluded.”
He paused.
“Lost track of time.”
Another pause.
“He had a nice dick. What can I say… I like to be thorough.”
Cody felt heat creep up the back of his neck. The comment was crude and unmistakably Jason.
He gripped the edge of his chair until his knuckles turned white.
“That is disgusting,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
“Is it?” Jason said, amusement in his voice.
“Gentlemen,” Debby interrupted sharply. “We are already running behind. Can we stop the talking until after training is done? Thank you.”
Cody fumed. Being lumped in with Jason felt like an insult.
He wouldn’t let Jason get under his skin. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But the image Jason had so casually planted — a secluded park, a faceless man, Jason on his knees — was already taking root, unwanted and irritating.
The rest of the morning was a blur of corporate videos and paperwork. Debby explained the different roles: cashiers, stockers, and sackers.
“Okay, everyone,” Debby said, clapping her hands together. “Time for the practical portion. Bagging is an art, not a science, but there are some basic principles. Heavy items on the bottom, delicate items on top, and don’t overstuff the bags. We’re going to pair up and practice with these empty boxes and bags.”
Cody’s heart sank.
He already knew what was coming.
“Cody, you’re with Jason,” Debby announced, pointing at them. “You two can use that checkout lane over there.”
Of course.
They moved to the vacant checkout stand. A black conveyor belt stretched before them, and a stack of empty paper bags and various grocery items sat waiting in boxes.
Jason grabbed a bag and held it open, a challenging smirk playing on his lips.
“Alright, PG. Show me what you’ve got. Don’t break the eggs.”
Cody ignored him and reached for a case of canned soup. He set two cans firmly in the bottom of the bag Jason was holding.
Then a box of cereal.
Then a loaf of bread, which he placed carefully on top.
He worked with quiet precision, his movements efficient and practiced.
He was good at this.
It was a system. A puzzle with a correct solution.
“Not bad,” Jason commented quietly. “Very methodical. Very… you.”
Cody reached for another item, a bulky pack of paper towels. As he leaned forward to slide it into the bag, Jason shifted his stance.
Instead of holding the bag steady, he moved just enough to crowd into Cody’s space.
Their sides brushed.
The contact was sudden. Jason’s hip pressed against Cody’s, the solid muscle of his thigh settling against Cody’s leg. Even through their clothes Cody could feel the warmth of his body against the cool air of the store.
Jason leaned a little closer.
Cody felt the warmth of his breath near his ear.
When Jason adjusted his grip on the bag, the beads of a worn bracelet slid across Cody’s forearm, cool against his skin.
“Whoops,” Jason murmured.
“Sorry.”
There was nothing apologetic in his voice.
He didn’t step away.
If anything, he shifted even closer, the small beads brushing Cody’s skin again as his wrist moved.
“Tight fit in here.”
Cody jumped when he heard Debby speak again.
“Alright class, I need to go turn your paperwork in to HR and be right back. I want to see those bags well packed when I get back.”
Every nerve in Cody’s body suddenly became aware of the point where Jason’s hip touched his side.
The contact was small.
Almost nothing.
But impossible to ignore.
His stomach tightened.
Cody froze, not daring to move. He didn’t want to encourage Jason, even though he could easily step away.
For a second his body reacted before his mind could catch up. A brief twitch low in his groin made his breath hitch, and the realization sent a cold rush of embarrassment through him.
No. Absolutely not.
He forced himself to focus on the bag in front of him, gripping the paper handles a little tighter than necessary.
His hand closed around a jar of pickles, slick condensation making the glass slide slightly in his grip.
Getting worked up over Jason was the last thing he needed right now.
The irritation twisting in his chest was starting to feel dangerously close to something else.
He hated how easily Jason could twist his nerves into knots.
He shoved the jar into the bag with more force than necessary.
“Something wrong, Cody?” Jason’s voice was a low, teasing purr. “You seem a little… tense.”
“I’m fine,” Cody bit out.
He took a sharp step to the side, finally breaking the contact.
“Can you just fill the bags now."
Jason grinned, a slow flash of white teeth.
“Whatever you say, boss.”
He knew. Of course he knew.
He knew exactly what effect he was having.
And he was enjoying every second of it.
That night, Cody lay in his bed. The familiar weight of his blankets was a comfort. Moonlight filtered through his blinds, casting neat stripes across his floor.
He tried to read through his financial aid documents from school, but his mind kept wandering.
Jason’s lazy grin.
The crude whisper in his ear.
The solid, undeniable pressure of his body against his own.
His cock, already half-hard from the memory, thickened to full, aching attention.
He sighed.
There was no fighting it.
He pushed his shorts down, his hand wrapping around the familiar heat of his shaft. He closed his eyes, slipping into the fantasy that usually worked so well.
It started as it always did.
He was standing, anonymous and powerful, in a dimly lit space.
A figure was on their knees before him, their face hidden in shadow.
He could feel a hot, wet mouth engulfing him, a tongue swirling around the head of his dick. He fisted a hand in their hair and began to thrust, setting a deep rhythm.
It was a fantasy of control.
Of taking without being known.
Of pure release.
He stroked himself in time with the imagined thrusts, his breath hitching.
But tonight something was different.
As he imagined gripping the person’s hair, the color shifted.
It wasn’t brown.
Or black.
It was lighter.
Messy.
Sun-streaked.
Dirty blonde.
His eyes snapped open.
No.
Absolutely not.
He squeezed them shut again, trying to push the image away, to force the fantasy back into its usual faceless shape.
It was just the hair, he told himself.
It didn’t mean anything.
But when he closed his eyes again, the blonde strands were still there.
Messy.
Sun-streaked.
Impossible to ignore.
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