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Lone Merchant

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"Batter," The name fell from the merchant's lips as if it were the delicious title of his savior. Then again, it practically was. Zacharie's mask was haphazardly pushed up on his forehead, making his incessant panting more bearable. He slouched forward as he tightened his grip, quickening his pace. The mewl that left him was beyond pitiful. Zach was fully aware that if someone chose to walk right into his store at that exact moment, they would catch him performing such a terribly indecent act. But what did he care? The mere fantasy of the Batter, stone-faced and cold, walking right in and catching him was enough to draw out another broken moan of sheer desperation. Zacharie's body tensed but quivered as a whole as he came, tilting his head back, waves of shudders passing through him.

He nearly collapsed against the counter before him, breathing heavily and feeling his heart pound in his chest. Just then, the telltale chime of the door opening made him close his eyes tightly. Well, fuck.