Page 2 of Psycho Killers

I savor the candy until the bursts of flavor and fizzing sensation fade, then I chew the remnants, mulling over what he might mean. He casts a quick glance at his lap before stealing another look at me, his smirk growing wider.

And then it dawns on me.

The Pop Rocks aren't just Pop Rocks. His gaze, lingering a little too long on his own lap, the suggestive smirk... it all clicksinto place. He’s not talking about the candy’s explosive fizz. He’s talking about the explosive fizz of something else entirely.

A blush creeps up my neck, staining my cheeks crimson. I swallow hard, the remnants of the Pop Rocks suddenly tasting metallic in my mouth. The abandoned building, the dull stakeout, the gnawing worry about Ash—all of it fades into the background, replaced by the intense heat radiating from Killian. His eyes, usually a warm hazel, are now dark and intense, pools of molten chocolate promising a sweetness far more potent than any candy.

He leans closer, the scent of his cologne—something woody and musky—filling my senses. The space between us shrinks, the air thick with unspoken desires. His hand, warm and strong, reaches out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. The touch sends a shiver down my spine, a jolt of electricity that sparks between us.

"So," he whispers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates in my chest, "are you ready for a little explosion?"

My breath hitches in my throat. I can't speak—I can only nod, my eyes locked on his. The Pop Rocks are front and center, the stakeout forgotten; even Five, Dominic, and Ash momentarily fade from my mind. All that matters is this moment, this stolen intimacy in the shadow of a forgotten building, the promise of a different kind of explosion, a far more thrilling and intimate kind, about to unfold between us. The dullness of the stakeout is utterly, deliciously obliterated.

He takes the pop rocks out of my hand and dangles them in front of my face, grinning wide while swiftly undoing his pants, freeing himself with pride. He then grabs my jaw and squeezes it until my mouth opens. Tilting my head back, he pours a pile of the candy onto my tongue, drops the empty package, and shoves my head down to his lap, leaning back with his palm flat on the dusty floor behind him to hold himself up.

The explosion, however, isn't quite what I anticipated. It isn't the fiery, all-consuming passion I imagined, fueled by stolen glances and whispered promises. Instead, it's... messy. The Pop Rocks, their sugary fizz and the raw, earthy scent of Killian's skin, mingled with a surprising amount of… well, let's just say it isn't exactly the refined elegance of a five-star restaurant.

But it tastes fucking delicious either way.

The initial shock gives way to a strange mixture of amusement and awkwardness. My cheeks burn, not just from the lingering heat of Killian's touch, but from the sheer unexpectedness of it all. He grunts with exertion, his breath hot against my ear as he leans down to nip at my lobe, drowning out the quiet hum of the abandoned building. The rhythmic pulse against my ear is surprisingly…satisfying. He looks down at me, his cock buried in my mouth along with the Pop Rocks, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"Sorry," he mumbles, his voice hoarse. "Maybe it's not the most... romantic setting."

I can't help but laugh; the tension is finally breaking. "Romantic?" I echo, wiping stray Pop Rocks from my cheek. "It's… certainlymemorable."

He chuckles, pushing me back down. The lingering taste of pop rocks and… other things... is still present, the silence punctuated only by our ragged breathing and the distant city sounds.

Keeping my eyes on his as he leans back again, I begin sucking harder, hollowing out my cheeks and swirling my tongue around his cock, the exploding Pop Rocks making his entire body spasm. He puts his hand on my head and shoves me down, easing his cock further down my throat while his legs tense from the pleasure.

Candy drips from my mouth with strings of spit, but I keep sucking, enjoying the sight of Killian's eyes rolling back from the sensation of my mouth around him.

My nails dig into his thighs as he thrusts his hips upward, fucking my mouth with a little moreoomph. I ignore the tears pricking my eyes and the sour taste of the candy melting against my cheeks, focusing strictly on gliding my tongue over each piercing in Killian's cock.

"Jesus, that feels fucking amazing," he groans, shuddering, his eyes tightly squeezed shut.

It doesn't take long for him to come, the bitterness of the hot fluid mixing with the sourness of the candy, creating an odd taste in my mouth. But I push through, bobbing my head and sucking every last drop out of him. His cum and the mushy candy trickle down my throat, almost making me gag, but I finish him off, not wasting a drop.

The aftertaste lingers—a bizarre cocktail of sugar, sweat, and something decidedly intolerable. Killian, still slightly breathless, rests his forehead against mine as I let his cock fall from my lips and sit up, his arm draped loosely across my back. The abandoned building feels less desolate now, somehow warmer, infused with the residual heat of our… unconventional, explosive encounter.

"So," I begin, a hesitant smile playing on my lips, "about that explosion…”

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through his chest and into mine. "Yeah, about that. Maybe next time we'll stick to theactualPop Rocks."

I playfully shove him, a genuine laugh escaping my lips. The awkwardness has dissipated, replaced by a comfortable intimacy that feels surprisingly... right. Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, there's a raw honesty to the moment, a vulnerability that transcends the messiness.

We lay here for a while, the silence punctuated by the distant city hum. I trace the lines of his jaw, the rough stubble scratching gently against my fingertips. He smells faintly of dust, sweat, and that woody cologne, a unique and surprisingly appealing blend.

Eventually, Killian shifts, pulling away slightly. "We should probably... get back to the stakeout," he mumbles, his cheeks flushed.

"Right," I agree, sitting up and brushing off my jeans.

The Pop Rocks are long gone, but the memory of the unexpected explosion, the messy, hilarious, and surprisingly satisfying experience, remains. It's certainly a story to tell, one that would likely be embellished with each retelling.

We clean ourselves up as best we can; the remnants of our impromptu rendezvous a testament to the unpredictable nature of passion. Returning to our post, the abandoned building seems less dreary, the stakeout less tedious. The world outside the window, with its mundane routine, feels distant, almost unreal, compared to the raw, unexpected moment we just shared.

The dullness is gone, replaced by a quiet hum, a secret smile exchanged between two people who had just experienced an explosion of a very different kind. And as I glance at Killian, a new kind of anticipation sparks in my eyes—the anticipation of another, perhaps slightly more refined, explosion. But even if it isn't, I know, with a certainty that warms me from the inside out, that whatever happens next, it will be anything but dull.

The restof the stakeout passed in a haze of shared glances and stolen touches. Our target never appeared, but frankly, we barely noticed. The world outside the grimy window held little interest compared to the world we'd created within the confines of the abandoned building. The lingering taste of Pop Rocks and his cum was a constant, surprising reminder of the act we indulged in.

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