Psycho ➳ H.S.

Chapter 5*

NOTE: This chapter contains graphic, detailed explicit material. Please read at your own discretion.

Carissa attempted to distract herself as much as possible for the rest of the day. She lounged around in a fresh new set of pyjamas (after tossing Harry's clothes into the washing machine to avoid burying her face in his shirt), ate leftovers from the fridge and watched reality TV shows until the clock struck six. She realized after whittling away a quarter of the day that she had yet to pick up groceries. Her kitchen was always filled with food from the restaurant, but she was starting to miss the meals she prepared on her own time- ones that had no business being in a five star restaurant.

Her apartment building was conveniently located within two blocks of everything she could possibly need: supermarkets, corner stores, coffee shops, shopping centers, and occasionally the city would host parades on her street so she didn't have to drive across town to see it. Tonight was just about a quick trip to the grocery store. Lazily, she slipped on a trench coat and slippers, fully aware she looked like she had just woken up from a hangover. She grabbed her keys then set her alarm, making her way out down the stairwell, through the lobby and onto the cool sidewalk.

It was nice to walk the streets at this time of night because people were usually too busy to take the time to appreciate the slight chill in the air, or the string of headlights in the distance along the highway. Art, though she could not produce it herself, was something Carissa fancied in all forms. She was drawn to people who even looked as if they were carved by Michelangelo himself- a possible reason why Harry was so appealing to her. His jawline was so sharp it could cut diamonds; his arms and legs were sculpted and toned to perfection; his hands were seemingly given to him by his creator, weathered and skilled, as a way to finish his masterpiece.

She shook the thoughts out of her head when she crossed the street and headed into the store. An abundance of greens and reds screamed, "Pick me!" as they waited to be chosen by her knowledgeable fingers, picking only the finest vegetables on display. Soon enough, her basket was filled with broccoli, tomatoes, kale, leeks, lemons and watercress. She also spotted something that didn't belong on the shelves of the supermarket: a tall man scoping out a variety of apples at the far end of the store. Though his back was turned to her, she could already tell he was handsome: a blonde quiff atop his head, and a stature similar to Harry's. Again with the thoughts? complained her conscience, The poor guy doesn't even know you and you're already comparing him to Harry.

She stealthily inched her way over closer and closer to the area he was standing in. He seemed to be indecisive, bouncing back and forth between Granny Smith and Fuji for nearly five minutes. She figured that since he was in need of aid, it wouldn't be harmful to "help" him out a little. She took a deep breath and walked with confidence over to him. He looked more and more godly as she approached him- he wasn't anything like Harry! He was burlier, broader, possibly even bigger (in another context other than height, she hoped) than Harry was.

"Do you need help deciding? I've always liked Macintosh apples myself, but-" she started, but stopped in her tracks when he turned around.

"Carissa?" greeted Lucas McCoy with a tone of confusion. No, this isn't Lucas, she thought, the Lucas I know has long, greasy hair, laughs too loud, and boasts like a lucky elderly woman at Bingo.

He gave a bashful smile and set the apples down, reaching his hand out for her to shake it. Carissa hesitated, but did so anyway. Her eyes were deceptive- there was absolutely no way this was the man she kissed in her bed and told that she loved him; this man was not the one that bought her a pair of diamond earrings on her twenty-first birthday; this man was not Lucas McCoy.

But this man was Lucas McCoy. She couldn't forget his cheeky grin, nor the sound of his voice, nor the smell of an expensive cologne she recalled getting him last Christmas. They stared at each other for a moment, his blues captivating her hazels.

"H-hi, Lucas," she managed to say through her nerves bunching up in her chest. She regretted her clothing choice, feeling like a fool in pajamas and a trench coat, donning sandals to increase the humiliation factor. "It's been a while."

"It has. How have you been?"

Oh, you know, I was doing fine until this guy buys the last ticket to From Famished to Fame and then fucks me at work in my boss' office, then takes me home and makes me brunch. He hates you. I thought I hated you too until I realized how fucking hot you look now, she said in her head.

"I've been good. Yourself?" she shortened and simplified her thoughts. She always thought he looked good but had a personality that overtook his aesthetic visage. He was dressed in a white tee and dark jeans, complementing his tanned skin. His hair had been trimmed short so it was impossible to put it in a ponytail like he always used to do, giving light to the icy pierce of his eyes. He had never looked so good.

"I've been better," he replied halfheartedly. What's with all of these changes in attitude in the males I thought I'd never want to see again? Carissa wondered.

"I see you've changed your look up a bit," she pointed out. He smiled, and she suddenly forgot how to breathe.

"Do you like it? I guess after we broke up I took your advice and worked on some stuff."

Clearly! she praised. Her heart fluttered at the sound of his voice. Maybe she wasn't over him- maybe it's what she told herself to allow herself to move on.

"It's nice. It's funny, actually, I was just talking about you today. You came up in the conversation."

"Did I? What a coincidence, huh?"

She expected him to go on about how everybody knew who he was and badger her about whom she was speaking to, but he didn't. Not a single display of narcissism or haughtiness.

"Yeah," she dismissed. Memories of them came back to her from all directions; it was hard to let go of someone who memorized you like the back of their hand. He knew her favourite drink at the coffee shop, her shoe size, and even the little details about her estranged family. More than anybody, he knew her, and it scared her to no end.

"I was thinking about you too," he admitted quietly. Her heart raced; she swore a sports car was pumping blood through her body instead of a heart. He always knew how to catch her off guard. She laughed nervously to try and cover up the fact he made her feel so young and juvenile- in a good way. Their five year age gap also entailed a much more mature relationship; on the other hand, she and Harry had a three year age difference but he acted so much younger and carefree.

He was so different than when she last saw him. Before, it was always about him; about how great of a swimmer he was; about how she, his then-girlfriend, should have been more appreciative of his efforts; about his fancy car and expensive hair gel that did absolutely nothing but make it look like he dipped his head in the oil used at fast food restaurants. She had had enough of him and his bragging, his constant let downs, and the fact he would suffocate her half to death by keeping her away from other males, as if she would cheat on him with any man that breathed the same air she did. He had gotten furious when they split, claiming that he was the best thing that ever happened to her- she vowed to never think of him again, but it was a perpendicular case now.

Before she knew it, he picked up his basket and sighed aloud. Where was he going?

"You're not getting apples?"

"No, I should get going. Sorry for taking up your time."

An apology? From Lucas? This was gold.

"You weren't, honestly."

He gave another small smile.

"You still working at The Ravier? Could I stop by this week?"

Carissa nodded, beaming at him. He returned a grin and made his way to the checkout. She kept her view upon him until he departed the store, not once looking back at her.

She felt warm again. She felt it through her whole body. At least it'll take your mind off of Harry, suggested her conscience.

Harry was a multi-sided polygon; there were many different pieces of him that coexisted so that vertices fit in with other vertices to create the perfect shape. Lucas was a mystery novel; it left you wanting to unravel more and more with each flip of the page. It was only a matter of stability which caused Carissa to close her eyes and imagine her life without either of them.

She couldn't.

***

The week had passed by slowly as she found it difficult to disguise her confusion as courage. Meanwhile, as she was having a crisis of her own, she also had to face Harry's devilish charm and quick glances at work. She only spoke in short sentences to him, restricting her chats to only about what dish they were preparing or what soup to bring out. He didn't push her to talk about anything, but she was getting impatient because she didn't feel like he was getting the point. She knew, however, that something ignited with herself and Harry; she and Lucas just knew each other longer. She wouldn't mind getting to know Lucas again and turn things around.

All week she had been lucky enough to avoid working shifts with him- he usually stayed in the evenings while she worked in the mornings. Unfortunately, she wasn't as lucky tonight- she and Harry were both working closing shifts.

In attempts to direct her cleaning path away from him, she decided to clear out the pantry. After each day, the pantry had to be swept for old food; a tedious task that would have Harry gone by the time she was done. Her conscience praised her for being so obedient and ethically moral- it had gotten easier since the bruises on her hips started fading. Relationships AT work will never, EVER work, she repeated in her head.

Harry was clever enough to know of her whereabouts, and the moment she turned into the pantry at the back of the kitchen, he could make his move. He had been coming up with a plan for weeks and weeks on end, and tonight was the night he would execute it.

"Vince? Don't worry about the pantry tonight. I'll get it."

"I thought Carissa was cleaning it out?"

"She stepped outside- said she wasn't feeling well," he lied. A wave of relief washed over Vince's face.

"Thanks, Harry. No one likes doing the pantry. I owe you one!" Vince called. Nobody dared to go near the pantry at the end of the day in fear that they would be the one stuck with the dismal job. Once he sent him away, the others would do the same. They all continued on with washing plates or wiping down stations. Harry took this opportunity to relax his shoulders, crack his knuckles and proceed to the pantry for his carefully devised plot to unfold.

He opened the thick door and caused Carissa to shriek at the sound of the vacuum seal around the frame to release its suction. The pantry was always set a little cooler to preserve the food better. He shut the door behind him.

"Sorry to startle you," he apologized.

"It's fine, Harry," she said, returning to search for old vegetables, "I've got the pantry today."

"But you never do the pantry."

She found it sweet that after a week he knew all of her habits around the workplace, but not sweet enough.

"I decided I'd do it. Take one for the team."

He observed her body language. Her sentences were choppy, unlike how she had spoken to him at his place. She didn't smile back at him nearly as much. She lacked the charisma she showed when they first met.

"Are you avoiding me?"

"What?" she spat, only offended because it was true, "No, I just said I would do the pantry."

"Oh. Sorry."

Silence. If there was a rat sleeping somewhere on the ground, it was quiet enough to hear its pulse.

"I, uh...I wanted to ask you something," he started, unsure of how to begin what he had intricately planned. It would only work under ideal circumstances- he hadn't thought the rest through.

"Go for it," she stated, not turning to face him. He frowned at this, but decided to play on anyway.

"I...I hope I don't sound stupid, but I'd really like to take you out. For dinner or a drink or something."

The tension in his nerves released. Now all she had to do was say yes.

"No," she replied firmly.

"Wait- what?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"We work together."

"So?"

She huffed and turned around. She watched his tall frame slouch at the rejection and the hurt in his eyes reflected by the green irises dulling down. He was trying to understand, but simply couldn't.

"It's unprofessional."

"It's not like we'll get caught. You said yourself that you didn't want to have sex at work because we could get in trouble-"

"Yes, but-"

"-and I'm asking you on an actual date- no sex, no work stuff-"

"That's not what I meant!" she hissed, silencing him, "I meant that we shouldn't have sex, period. It's not right."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Harold,"- she wanted to be as harsh as possible- "that us frolicking around doing whatever it is we did, is a bad thing- both in and out of work."

Harry's jaw clenched as he let out a heated groan of frustration; she turned around and resumed her job.

"I don't understand," he protested, "I really thought you and I...I thought we had something?"

"You must've misinterpreted me. I didn't mean to lead you on."

"You didn't mean to? Are you kidding me? You were all over me that night!"

"Don't even start-" Carissa began, turning again and pointing a finger at him.

"'Please Harry, please fuck me, I'm close!'" he mimicked her in a higher pitched tone. She could tell she was pushing all the wrong buttons, but he brought the water to a boil with his comment.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but you'd better stop. I'm serious."

"Then tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why you won't go out with me- give me a good reason."

"We work together! I just said-"

"Bullshit," he raised his voice, "tell me the truth, Carissa."

She wavered, but he could tell she was hiding something. She was someone that always knew what to say, and clearly she was faltering for a reason.

"I said tell-"

"I met Lucas at the grocery store last week!" she revealed ashamedly, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

"What?" the volume of his voice dropped to a mere whisper. She could hear the sadness in his voice. She didn't understand why- like he said: it's not like they were together.

"I ran into him," she corrected, though it didn't make it hurt less for him, "and...I don't know...he's changed."

"I thought you got tired of him?"

"I was, until I saw him and I just...I guess I haven't really thought it through enough," she stammered. To be fair, she didn't understand much about where her heart was; one moment it was fluttering over Harry, and the next it was seeping back to Lucas.

Harry slammed the closest pantry shelf with his palm, causing it to clang against the wall it stood against. The metal creaked under the pressure of the food weighing down the racks. He was irate and fuming- she could practically see steam billowing from his head. She observed the crumbling of his peace of mind silently, refusing to make a sound or talk anymore; things were bad as it was, but he needed to know that she wasn't going to keep submitting to him and her own guilty pleasures.

He promptly turned to her and backed her into a shelf at the end of the small room, her back bumping into the cheeses that resided happily side by side. His eyes had gotten dark, twinkling green irises shrinking into thin rings around his pupils. His heavy breaths were the only audible sounds other than her heart rapping against her rib cage.

"So you're still unclear about everything?" he whispered, sizing her up and keeping his focus on her. She nodded and he smirked at her fear, grabbing her hand and placing her open palm over the bulge in his jeans. He slowly moved her hand in time with his, rubbing over his hardening package, eliciting a gasp from her. "Shall we make things clear, then?"

"Harry, please-" she pleaded, although she wasn't sure if she wanted him to stop or not. A small fire crackled in her stomach- no, Carissa, begged her conscience, say no. He'll stop if you say no.

She tried to tug her hand away- lightly, because even though she didn't want to admit it excited her, it did- but he clutched onto it tighter, forcing her to feel his erection.

"You feel that, princess?" he murmured, leaning down to her neck, "That's because of you; you drive me fucking insane."

Harry allocated soft kisses to her neck, licking a bold stripe over every capillary hidden under her skin. Her breaths became shallow and she sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. It suddenly became very hot in the chilly pantry. His hands untied the apron from her back and pulled it off along with her sweater. Then, without any warning, he grabbed onto each side of her tan oxford shirt and ripped it open, the sound of buttons popping off the fabric and scattering all across the floor, allowing a gust of wind to tickle her freshly exposed stomach. He yanked it roughly down her arms. She didn't feel comfortable in her own skin anymore- she felt like he was observing every inch of her body. She raised her hands to shield herself from his view, but before she knew it, her wrists were tied together behind her back with the apron he had just rid her of.

He finished the job, taking her pants off and leaving her in her black, mary janes and a matching set of undergarments- a light pink, floral lace ensemble that made him harder just by sight. He took a step back and bit his lip, taking in the image before him before leaning up against her trembling body once more. Her legs closed, but not fast enough- his hand was between her legs, massaging her clit at an ever-increasing speed. Her knees quaked under the pressure.

"Tell me to stop, princess. Tell me to stop, and I will," he muttered in her ear, his steamy breath traveling the expanse of her cheek, "go on."

He chuckled when nothing left her mouth but a whimper. She couldn't say no- not when she felt this good. Slut! screeched her conscience, Filthy, dirty slut! His fingers picked up their speed, and her legs shook- her hands wriggled in the apron and clasped onto the wire racks on the shelf behind her in order to stay standing.

"He won't ever make you feel this good, I'll promise you that."

A louder moan escaped her, and he clapped his hand over her mouth. He took this as a signal to go faster; rub harder; use more force; make her scream into his hand. Her legs were shaking violently, and she could feel her orgasm building. She felt silly because he hadn't even stripped her down naked yet. Just when she could feel herself about to break down, he removed his skilled fingers, leaving her panting for breath and furious.

"What?" he teased, noticing her clear frustration, "Do you want more?"

"Fuck you," she snarled, exhaling her anger towards him. His jaw clenched as his hand reached for her hair, creating a makeshift ponytail and pulling her head back sharply, exposing her neck to him.

"Be good and I'll let you cum," he whispered. His words travelled down her spine and sent sparks all over her body. She winced at the pain from him tugging at her hair before he released her dark locks from his fist. "Get on your knees."

Carissa paused, then obeyed his demand. She was certain he wouldn't hurt her, but she was afraid of him while he was in this state, mostly because she always let him have his way- her conscience would never shut up about how disappointing she was. She kneeled on the cold tiles, staring up at him through wide eyes. The dim bulbs of the pantry gave them enough light to see what was going on. Her face was directly in front of his erect cock, straining under the denim material. He leaned down and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"When I'm done with you, you won't even know who Lucas is."

His words scratched through any barriers she had built to keep him out. She felt her core releasing her arousal, soaking her good underwear. Harry kissed her forehead and stood up straight again, unfastening his buckle and tearing his pants down his legs, stepping out of them. His member sprang free- it looked a lot larger from her position than it did when she was on Mr. Dale's desk a week ago. He grabbed her hair again.

"You're going to take it, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"I want to hear you say it."

"Yes."

He tightened the pull on her hair, causing her to shriek.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm going to take it!"

And with that, Harry thrusted his cock into her mouth savagely; ferociously; violently. He didn't have mercy; he didn't wait for her to adjust to his length. He felt his penis stopping half-way, obscured by her tongue producing a barricade in her mouth- she couldn't take it all in one go, choking occasionally on her gag reflex. He pulled from her, a string of saliva dripping from his cock that connected to her lower lip and dribbled down her chin as she pulled away. They both felt so dirty, and insanely euphoric.

"Will you be a good if I untie your hands?" he asked. Carissa nodded feebly. He reached around her and undid the knot he made, tossing the apron to the side and looking back at her again.

"Stroke it," he demanded. She reached out her shaky hands, resting her left on his thigh and wrapping her right around his thick length- her small hand barely wrapped around its circumference. She started pumping slowly; vigorously; then spat on his erection, moistening it further. He groaned at the feeling of her hand moving faster and faster up and down his cock, the excess saliva increasing the sense of pleasure he felt. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to keep his cool. She looked at him and batted her eyelashes, a small smirk cracking on her face.

"You nasty girl," he rasped through gritted teeth, "open your mouth."

Carissa complied, relaxing her muscles and taking him in, inch by inch, gagging on it before pulling out. She felt his stomach tense at her gag, proud she had a weakness to use against him. She went in again, pushing herself to touch his stomach with the tip of her nose. She got to the same point as before, choking on him, but patiently moved his cock past her uvula and down her throat- her nose grazed the trail of hair on his stomach. He groaned loudly, letting out sighs of ecstasy as he held her head there for a moment before pulling her back.

He resumed his thrusts now that she was less apprehensive, feeling Carissa's tongue glide along the underside of his cock as he moved quicker in and out of her mouth.

"Fuck, that's it, princess- you're such a good girl, aren't you?" he growled, pulling her head back and wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. She smiled weakly, letting soft laughs fall from her lips. Harry pulled her up and shoved her into the shelf again, unhooking her bra and pulling down her panties. He lifted her right leg and slipped inside her- she shuddered at his fullness. She could've sworn his cock hit the inside of her navel.

"Do you feel good?"

"Yes," she sighed, rolling her eyes to the back of her head at the sound of his voice, which was much softer now than it had been before. He pushed himself in to the hilt, letting a gasp trickle from her mouth.

"Say my name."

"Harry," she breathed, feeling her orgasm build again. She could feel her excitement ooze down her leg. She dragged her nails down his back, sure to leave raised red lines as reminders of her tension on his skin for days, just as he had marked her. He dipped his head down to her neck once again and sucked feverishly upon her clammy skin, refusing to stop until the surface was littered with a train of purple bruises that led from just below her ear down to the top of her breast. He squeezed her ass in his hands- then smack! Her cheek was brandished with another handprint. There was no way anybody- Lucas included- would doubt she belonged to him.

"I want to cum," she whimpered, biting into his shoulder to shush her screams. He pushed her hair away from her face and stared deep into her hazel orbs.

"And who makes you want to cum, princess?" he huffed, getting close himself.

"You, Harry," she shivered, feeling her walls clench around him. He thrust into her as hard as he could; as fast as he could for the last few seconds before she finally came undone. He couldn't hold it anymore.

"Get on your knees- fuck, suck it, now," he grunted, pulling out of her. She swiftly dropped to the floor and wrapped her lips around his head, bobbing her neck back and forth and pumping her hand around the length that didn't fit into her mouth. After a disgruntled groan and a few more moans from her around his cock, he exploded down her throat. Carissa swallowed every drop of the sweet-salty perfection.

"Good girl," he praised, popping his cock from her mouth and slumping down on the floor beside her. She felt like a puppy or a kitten being rewarded for optimal behaviour. Harry leaned over to her, inhaling the scent of sweet jasmine. She gazed at him with hooded eyes, the heat still present on her cheeks. She was always worn out by him. Carissa saw his face getting closer and closer to hers, parting his lips slightly and lifting his hand to caress her face-

"I think we should clean up now," she remarked suddenly. He pulled back from his almost-embrace and frowned, sighing in defeat. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples as she got up and quickly put her clothes on, fastening her sweater over her destroyed shirt. Once she was done, he took his time; he pulled on one pant leg at a time, fumbled with the button on his jeans, pulled the shirt down his torso and put on his shoes. She was watching him get dressed- she wished she could've seen it in rewind all the time. He turned and started towards the door.

"Aren't you going to help me?"

Harry snorted, shaking his head and grinning.

"Me? Help you? I'm just the the garbage boy- I don't do the pantry. Say hi to Lucas for me."

She scoffed and pursed her lips into a thin line as he unlocked the pantry entrance. The kitchen was dimmed, meaning everyone had left. Before he exited, he turned around and looked her dead in the eye. If looks could kill, she'd be hanging on a string thinner than a strand of hair.

"All's fair in love and war, princess."

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