Work Text:
All things considered, Striker should be thankful he still had his damned head. 20 years of community service wasn’t the worst thing. He had a roof over his head and a job so he could at least have the basics to survive. Most demons would be on their knees thanking the Sins for that kind of merciful punishment.
“Hey don’t forget to put the candles out by size!” the candle-store demon called to the imp-hybrid. “The bigger the candle, the hornier the mood!”
“Yes Mr. Lexx, sir…” Striker muttered, feeling absolutely disgusted he was working somewhere so…sexual.
Apparently, while King Lucifer and the other Sins were discussing punishments for Striker and the royal dimwits, Asmodeus made a suggestion that Striker work in his ring so he could keep an eye on him. After kidnapping Fizz and Blitz, Ozzie was about ready to tear that cowboy twerp a new one. But Lucifer talked him down and suggested he give him a little taste of karma to teach him a lesson. The King of Lust remembered Fizz mentioning something about Striker hating anything sexual so he figured why not surround him in it?
Now Ozzie, while he wasn’t a pushover, was still a merciful demon now with Lucifer back so he decided to call up two old friends to give Striker a lesson in respect and why you don’t fuck with his beloved Fizzy-frog.
Lexx, the candle shop owner, was someone that believed in setting the mood for every occasion when it came to sex. From first times to long term relationships, if there was a specific mood, he had a candle for it. He was also brutally honest so he wouldn’t take Striker’s crap and throw it right back to him.
Plus he needed someone that was short enough to take care of the candles on the lower shelves for his back.
Max–the owner of the BDSM store and partner of Lexx–was a different story. He was someone that always wanted the best for his customers so he could be a bit…intense with his customer service. He always had the highest reviews for having exactly what customers want…and things they didn’t even know they wanted. Someone that could see right through Striker’s bullshit would definitely be beneficial.
He was already theorizing his big-dick energy was secretly a repressed bottom.
Striker’s work schedule was already planned out. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays he would work at the candle shop working the register. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays he would work at the BDSM shop stocking shelves. Sundays were his days off which he was thankful for just to get away from anything sexual.
Though in Lust that was damned hard.
“So…what is it about sexy shit that you hate?” Lexx asked one day, polishing a dick shaped candle.
Striker focused on putting out the non-sexy candles, letting out a sigh. “It’s a waste of time and energy for more important things,” he muttered.
“Like being a glorified cowboy wannabe?” the candle-headed demon snorted.
“Not everyone has the time or luxury to focus on all that crap,” Striker retorted, giving him a look. “Who the hell needs this many damned candles? What are ya tryin’ to cater to? Influencers on VoxTok?”
Lexx crossed his multiple arms, raising an eyebrow. “You might have a problem with sex but you don’t have to make it everyone else’s problem,” he told him in a warning voice.
“I just want to serve my time and get back home,” Striker grumbled, moving away to stock shelves somewhere else.
Lexx watched with an almost pitying expression before the door opened, prompting him to go into professional mode.
(...)
As much as Striker disliked working in Lust in general, he did have to admit the candle shop was more preferable compared to the BDSM store. With all the harnesses, leatherwear, punishment implements, and other weird shit, how was anyone supposed to concentrate on anything in here? The best strategy he found was thinking of this stuff in a clinical manner; if he thought of it as just junk, it wasn’t sexy to him. Not that he actually found it sexy of course.
He had standards he had to keep up.
“Where do ya want the zipper face masks?” Striker questioned.
“Oh just put them on the mannequin heads with the other leather gear,” Max told him. “When you’re done with that, you can organize the lube and lotion.”
“Is there really a difference with that here?” Striker found himself asking, not sure if he actually wanted the answer.
“Oh absolutely!” the spider demon grinned, going into full explanation mode. “Lotion you want specifically on the outside of your body, especially if it’s scented. You don’t want anything itchy near anything important. Lube is more recommended for sexual use since you don’t want to cause your skin to break out. Common rookie mistake for young lovers.”
“Tch. All this shit’s just seems the same to me,” Striker scoffed.
“Very much a repressed bottom thing to say,” Max mused, smirking when Striker turned to him with an incredulous look.
“Excuse me?!”
The large spider demon leaned over the counter with a chuckle. “I’ve been around a long time, my friend and I’ve seen it all. Demons that are shy find they enjoy being dominant. Demons that think they’re hot shit turning into mewling kittens with the right partner. Closet perverts discovering all kinds of kinks and fetishes they didn’t even know they had?” he listed off as he rested his head on his hand. “You’re a text book repressed bottom.”
“IF I actually gave a damn about sex–which I don’t–I’d take anyone to bed and have them ridin’ me like no tomorrow!” Striker retorted.
“Hmm…perhaps you see yourself as more of a switch depending on the partner?” the spidery demon pondered.
“Well you ain’t ever gonna know because sex shit is STUPID!” Striker snapped, picking up the bottles of lube and lotions and stalking off to stock shelves.
Max lit a cigarette and took a drag, shaking his head a bit. It was always the most repressed ones that were in denial about what they wanted. At least that imp fellow from a few months back was more considerate of his partner’s needs and desires. A little clueless in the feeling department but their weekly gossip session with that nice Fizzarolli guy revealed the imp fellow and his princely partner were getting on track. Now their intimate moments could be more hot and heavy with the both of them being on the same page.
Hopefully this Striker fellow could get his act together.
(...)
“So…how’s he been doing?” Ozzie questioned, paying a visit to the two spidery lovers on a rare day off after a month of Striker’s banishment.
“The dude’s stubborn as an oversized dildo in a small asshole!” Lexx began. “I get the kinkier side of things ain’t everyone’s cup of tea but I had to tell him off for makin’ snide comments to a cute lesbian couple trying to find the right scent for their third anniversary! We don’t kink shame here!”
“Why do you think I have him stocking shelves in my store?” Max snarked. “He’s so repressed it’s almost sad.”
“He hasn’t attacked anyone, has he? Say the word and I’ll have him working personally at one of my vibrator factories,” Ozzie promised.
“Oh no no you don’t need to worry about that, your majesty,” the candle-headed demon reassured him. “He’s a stubborn guy but he does at least know how to follow instructions. He even put the more fruity candles away from the flowery scented ones so customers won’t cough when sniffing the samples.”
“And as much as he drags his feet, he will get new stock put out on time so when the trucks arrive from your factory, we aren’t overwhelmed with backstock,” the spider demon added.
Ozzie was surprised that Striker was actually taking his punishment in stride and not half-assing it. As much as he hated the little creep for hurting his Fizzy and getting involved in royal drama, he was impressed he hadn’t tried to run off or throw a tantrum about his new working conditions. He did remember him begging about his horse being cared for so maybe buried DEEP down in his cowboy poser heart, there was some semblance of care for someone other than himself.
Maybe in a few weeks he’d earn a supervised visit with his horse.
(...)
Striker kicked in his apartment door, desperately wanting a shower after accidentally spilling orange flavored lube on his work shirt.
“Who the fuck wants scented lube? It’s just gonna be mixed with other shit when they’re usin’ it…” he grumbled to himself, exhausted from a long week of work. He thanked his lucky stars it was Sunday and he could actually sleep in.
Admittedly it was getting boring working 8 hours a day for six days straight and working out only in the mornings and evenings to keep his body in check. Early morning and late evening were the only times he could workout without worrying about any lustful demons checking him out. He worked out for himself alone and he’d get through this stupid banishment alone. With no weapons and no way to make money with assassination gigs, he’d squirrel away whatever money he made to live it up when he got out. It would one day just be him and Bombproof with no one else to bug him.
That’s how it’s been…and that’s how it will stay.
“What do those stupid spiders know anyway?” Striker ranted as he scrubbed himself clean. “I ain’t no one’s bottom.”
The funny thing with someone placing an idea in your head? Even when you’re denying it, it will wriggle its way into the back of your mind and start planting seeds whether you realize it or not.
[END]