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Service has been over for a while, and Sydney's still huddled back in the office, door closed, taste of vomit in her mouth, power tools ringing in her ears. At least it drowns out the ticket machine and the pounding and the shouting from inside the walk-in.
Her father is waiting for her at home for her, she's sure: her father, who finally approves of everything she - they, have been doing. But there's still so much to do - so much to put back together. More hands to hire. Inventory to do. A walk-in to fix.
Thinking about it makes her want to throw up again, and she puts her head down against the desk, waits a minute.
She must have dozed there, despite the power tools and pounding headache: as much as anything she's alerted by the sudden silence.
"Fuck." she whispers, and it echoes loud. There's a can of ginger ale she almost knocks over, propped on the corner: DRINK ME on a note under it in spiky handwriting. Fucking Richie.
Sydney can't think about that right now, she decides, shoves back from the desk, reaches for a notepad, a pen, goes to do her job.
There's a murmuring in the kitchen. Someone's still there, and Sydney almost says "corner", but comes around, and can't bring herself to say anything at what she sees here.
Richie's up against the wall, still buttoned into that suit of his. Carmy hugged close, nose to nose with her partner, saying something to him real low, real quiet. One hand rises to cup Carmy's cheek from his back. The chef's shuddering: then he goes still. Looks up. Surges forwards and kisses Richie, open-mouthed, grasping at him.
Sydney's knees go weak with shock and something else, something sharply, abruptly wanting. Richie's groaning into Carmy's mouth, and Carmy's hand is down the front of his suit pants.
She should leave. This is too much: too private. But she stands rooted there at the corner as the two men kiss, grapple with each other, and finally Carmy's sinking to his knees in front of Richie, working him out of his pants, his boxers, hollowing his cheeks around his cock.
"Cousin, fuck!" Richie's moan is loud in the kitchen, his head thrown back against the wall. "Fuck me. God, fuck. Fuck!" One hand over his face, the other in Carmy's hair, grasping there, dragging him own onto his cock. There's gagging, but then the chef readjusts, eyes slipping closed. "Fuck, you like that - being so good for me. Just like that, c'mon, just... fuck..."
This is sick, this is - she needs to go. She needs to say something. But all she can do is watch Carmy, his cheeks flushed, his eyes shut, hands around Richie's ass - Richie's looking down now at Carmy, muttering prayers, imprecations, something low and filthy that insinuates itself into Sydney's ears, fans the swollen wanting in her belly. She bites her lips, clenches her hands. Tries to look away, turn.
Then Richie's eyes flicker up, those blue eyes piercing her, dark with want. Sees Sydney, her eyes wide, her mouth slack with shock. She can't imagine what she looks like. She can't think of what to do. But Carmy moans again, low around Richie's cock, and Richie's head drops back. But he's still looking at her as he's getting blown, as his hand clenches tighter in the other man's hair.
They're staring each other down, Richie's hips working just slightly, fucking Carmy's throat. Richie's face is flushed but serious: stern, like on expo, that finesse of control on him. She licks her lips: sees his eyes flicker dark to the flicker of her tongue, back to her eyes again.
There's something dark, considering in his gaze, something too ominous about the sudden quiet, but then he's groaning as Carmy does something with his tongue, carding his fingers back through those dark curls.
"That's it cousin... that's it sweetheart..." But his eyes are on hers as he says it, as he works himself into her partner's throat. Sydney swallows, wraps her arms around herself, watches him take her in languidly. Her eyes drop to Carmy, to the vee of skin and hair, to where Richie's cock is shoved down his throat. "Look at me," Richie orders, and she sees Carmy's eyes open, blurrily gazing up at him.
Her eyes are drawn up too, snapping to the older man with unthinking obedience. She sees Richie lick his lips, sees him lose it, slams one hand back against the wall. His eyes fly shut as he goes rigid, and Carmy's swallowing is loud in the kitchen.
Sydney flees.