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🕑 Added 2025-04-04 23:35:06 +0000 UTCThe sharp scent of freshly popped popcorn mixes with the sweet smell from the nearby Cinnabomb stand. Pop music blares from speakers in every corner, competing with the chatter of shoppers and the beeping of cash registers. The occasional excited squeal of a child can be heard as they run through the crowded halls. The constant hum of conversation and hustle and bustle creates a lively atmosphere. Tired parents, window shoppers, and teenagers moving in slow, impenetrable herds.
Lucy wasn’t built for slow. She was built for trouble.
“Booth,” she announced, grabbing Davie’s wrist and yanking him toward the old photo machine wedged between a sad claw game and a trash can stuffed with forgotten smoothies.
“What—why?” Davie stumbled after her, a mix of surprise and excitement flashing across his face as he scrambled to keep up with her relentless pace. She pulled him into the booth, barely giving him a moment to catch his breath as she dragged him past the curtain and yanked it shut, sealing them away from the outside world's madness, and their sudden closeness took over the moment.
“For crimes,” she said simply.
The booth was cramped, the air thick with the synthetic scent of cheap mall perfume sticking to the air like a cloud. But Lucy didn’t mind. She liked the way the small space pressed them together, the way Davie’s thigh rested warm against hers. The moment was theirs, a perfect little rebellion against the world outside, and she soaked it up with a smile that bordered on wicked.
Davie, meanwhile, was still trying to figure out how to exist in the space. He shifted, his slender frame folding in on itself, his hands restless—knees, lap, the side of the seat—like he wasn’t sure where they belonged. His breath hitched just slightly when Lucy nudged him, her gaze steady, amused. She didn’t have to say anything; he could feel the weight of her attention, warm and knowing.
She always seemed so sure. Like she knew exactly what she wanted. And right now, she wanted him right here, pressed close, with nowhere else to be.
“You’re sitting like we just met on a bus,” she teased, nudging his knee. “Relax, cutie.”
“I am relaxed,” Davie muttered, shifting—though his leg still bounced like it had a whole drum solo trapped inside. “You just have that look.”
Lucy’s grin widened. The look. The one that meant she was about to cause problems—small, stupid, hilarious, perfect problems.
The screen flickered on, a cheap, pixelated logo promising him endless memories.
First photo in 10… 9… 8…
Davie barely had time to react before Lucy’s fingers curled under the hem of his hoodie—and her own.
“Lu—?!”
Fwip.
His breath caught as her confident motion left Davie completely stunned, the cool air ghosting over his skin and sending a shiver that traveled from the nape of his neck all the way to his toes. He was utterly overwhelmed, dizzied by the sheer audacity of it all, her body stretching out beside him, arching slightly with a natural ease that made it seem like she belonged everywhere, especially here, pressed so close to him.
He traced the shape of her in his mind, every curve and fold, each detail branding itself into his memory. The gentle curve of her waist, and the plush swell of her stomach were so incredibly inviting, he didn't even know where to start. Her motions shifted her body into his space, gliding over him with a kind of boldness that made his hands ache to touch her, even as they trembled in his lap. Her pale skin looked impossibly soft, glowing like moonlight and completely impossible to ignore.
His eyes flicked upwards, taking in her breasts, which were full and heavy enough to settle generously against her frame, utterly mesmerizing. He whimpered when he caught sight of her nipples—swollen, hidden, teasing. Almost shy, like they needed coaxing to come out and play. He swallowed hard, barely able to keep up with what he was seeing. A tiny freckle rested near her cleavage, a mark so small but suddenly the only thing he could focus on, like a beacon.
She shifted, and the movement sent a ripple through her body, the kind that made his pulse hammer in his throat. The more she moved, the more he felt his own sense of restraint give way to wanting. He felt the heat creeping up his neck, the way his fingers twitched against his lap as if they might spring free and touch her at any moment.
The way she carried herself—so casual, so utterly unbothered—made the whole thing even worse. Or better. He wasn’t sure anymore.
By contrast, Davie felt exposed.
Lucy let her eyes drag over him, slow and deliberate, taking her time to savor every detail of the sight before her. She took in the way he looked at her, the way he was almost shaking with all his contained energy and desire, and it made her smile with wicked delight.
He was smaller than her by at least a head, and built like something meant to be held. All soft curves and gentle slopes, his body plush in a way that made her want to press her hands against every inch just to see how he'd react. His pale skin looked untouched, unmarked by tension or definition, like he'd never had to fight to exist in it. Just smooth, inviting softness that seemed to call out to her, begging to be touched.
Her gaze flickered downward, over the subtle rise of his chest, lingering there with amusement. His nipples were puffy, sensitive-looking, like they were meant to be teased and toyed with.
Like she could run her tongue over them and watch him squirm. She smirked at the thought, licking her lips with the urge to test the theory. His stomach was soft, plush—not as round as hers, but completely untouched by muscle. A place meant for sinking fingers, for pressing close, for feeling the warmth of him against her own, and his entire form seemed to radiate.
Lucy’s gaze flickered over him—appraising—and his skin went taut beneath her attention. She smiled, knowing that even as his cheeks burned under her gaze, he’d never once thought to pull away.
“Smile, pretty boy,” she purred, voice thick with amusement. “Nobody can see us but the camera.”
The countdown hit zero.
Snap!
Davie exhaled with relief and tension all at once, his shoulders finally sinking as Lucy shifted even closer. Their bare stomachs touched, skin pressed against skin, and he swore he could feel the heat of her bleeding through him like a fever.
His chest rose and fell quickly, a visible sign of the way his pulse hammered as he glanced nervously toward the curtain, half expecting someone to be peering through the gap.
“Someone might—”
Lucy’s hand found his jaw, cupping it with a firmness that demanded his attention and brought his eyes back to her.
“They won’t.” Her thumb traced a slow, soothing line over his cheek, and her voice dipped to a lower, softer tone that held all the reassurance his anxious heart needed. “It’s just us, Davie.”
He swallowed hard, and she saw it—the exact moment he believed her, when his eyes softened and his doubt faded into something far more urgent. The countdown beeped again, a relentless reminder of the time they had to make the most of, the photos capturing what felt like tiny lifetimes.
Next photo in 10 seconds.
Lucy kissed him, her lips stealing his breath as they closed the gap between them.
It was slow and deliberate, every bit as bold as she was, and it pulled him straight into her orbit. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging him closer with a need that matched the sudden, desperate hunger that took over every inch of him. In one swift motion, she claimed more than his mouth; she claimed the part of him that was always waiting and wanting her to cause beautiful chaos within him.
Davie made a soft sound, something caught between a sigh and a whimper. It was a noise full of relief and wanting, and as her lips moved against his, he found himself lost in the way she surrounded him. His hand, tentative at first, settled in the curve of her waist—then tightened, pulling her flush against him with a new kind of surety.
She sighed into his mouth, melting into the way he fit against her, the way he responded without thinking, without hesitating. He was exactly where he wanted to be, no insecurities, no second-guessing, just a raw, unfiltered now.
Snap!
Their lips barely parted. The kiss broke with only the faintest release, still feather-light against each other, a delicate string of spit catching in the space between them and refusing to let go. Lucy lingered there, savoring every fraction of a second, every tiny brush and sigh that passed between them.
She pulled back just enough to look at him, to measure the distance between the person he was before she kissed him and the person she had unraveled him into. Davie's pupils were blown wide, his breath coming in uneven, shaky bursts like he’d just surfaced from the deepest dive and couldn’t quite believe he was still alive. A shiver coursed through him, but it wasn’t from the chill of the air; it was from her, and it radiated outward, leaving a path of breathless heat in its wake.
Lucy grinned, her victory gleaming. His eyes were unfocused, his expression blissfully stunned, completely wrecked, just the way she liked it.
"You still worried about getting caught?" she teased, voice low and thick with satisfaction.
Davie’s mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. It was almost a full second before he swallowed hard.
"Huh?"
“Exactly.”
The timer beeped, loud and insistent, and a sudden urgency crackled between them. He turned to the camera, moving slowly, blinking like he couldn’t quite remember what he was supposed to be doing.
Lucy shot it a smug, knowing look, her lips curved into a smirk that seemed to say exactly what they both knew: she owned him.
Snap!
The moment froze in a flash of light, capturing his dazed surrender and her triumphant amusement.
The next countdown began, a steady ticking that seemed to mock the frenzy of their last picture.
Last photo in 10 seconds.
The countdown started, but Lucy was already more than five seconds ahead of it. She tilted her head, her eyes drinking in every detail of him.
His cheeks were flushed, a warm, rosy hue that traveled all the way down to his chest.
His lips were red and parted, still glistening from the intensity of their last kiss.
He seemed almost dazed, his whole body relaxed in a way that she craved seeing, that she loved knowing she could coax out of him. Soft, warm, his usual nervous energy smoothed out under her hands and her touch. He looked—well, frankly, he looked wrecked, and she loved it.
Lucy smiled, an expression that was far too smug for its own good. She dipped her head, lips brushing the shell of his ear. Her breath was a hot whisper against his skin, and he shivered, a pleasing little tremor that made her want to capture every fraction of him even more.
“Now, take a deep breath.”
Davie blinked at her, a slow, confused flutter of his lashes as if she’d stolen all his thoughts away alongside his breath. Still dazed, still hungry for her- another second, another infinite minute filled with her touch.
“What—?”
In one quick motion, Lucy grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward, tucking his face right between the soft, inviting warmth of her breasts. Her laughter bubbled up, a delighted sound, bright and full of mischief.
His entire body went stiff.
Snap!
The final flash captured them in the aftermath—Lucy grinning like she’d just won the lottery, Davie still dazed, lips parted, pupils blown. He blinked slowly, like he was trying to process the last several minutes but couldn’t quite hold onto anything solid.
The photo strip slid from the slot with a mechanical whirr, spitting out evidence of their tiny rebellion. Lucy snatched it up before Davie could even reach for it, holding it high as she scanned the shots with a self-satisfied hum.
“Well,” she mused, tapping the strip against her palm, “I’d say that was a good use of mall resources.”
Davie groaned softly, rubbing his face with both hands as reality started to creep back in. “I think I forgot how to stand up.”
Lucy grinned. “You’re fine.” She leaned in, voice dropping to something just for him. “No one knows I completely wrecked you in there.”
He shot her a look, cheeks still flushed, lips still a little swollen from where she’d kissed him stupid. “Lucy.”
She kissed him again, quick and sharp, just enough to make him exhale a shaky breath before she yanked back the curtain and stepped out like she hadn’t just unraveled him into a puddle.
“C’mon, pretty boy,” she called over her shoulder. “We’ve still got trouble to cause.”
And like always, Davie followed.
