Trip Preparations Pt. 2

You stepped outside the mall, a slight chill in the evening air brushing against your skin as you adjusted the strap of your handbag. The Forget-Me-Mint sat under your tongue, nearly dissolved, its faint coolness soothing your nerves and preparing you for what was to come. You spotted Vincent's sleek black sedan idling at the curb, its glossy exterior catching the glow of the mall lights.

With your arms weighed down by shopping bags, you made your way to the car. Vincent was in the driver’s seat, sunglasses perched atop his head despite the setting sun. His signature smirk greeted you as he leaned over to unlock the back door.

"Stocked up, huh?" he teased, glancing at the multitude of bags you carried.

You rolled your eyes playfully but smiled as you opened the back door and slid the bags onto the seat, carefully stacking them so nothing would crease or crush. "A girl’s gotta be prepared," you replied, closing the door with a light thud before walking around to the passenger side.

Sliding into the leather seat, you pulled the door shut behind you and turned to Vincent, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips, as had become routine. His hand lingered on your thigh for a brief moment before he shifted back to the steering wheel.

"You ready?" he asked, starting the engine. The low hum of the car purred beneath you as he eased into the flow of traffic, the sleek vehicle cutting through the streets effortlessly.

You nodded, settling into the seat as you felt the mint's effects kicking in, clouding your thoughts and beginning to dull the anticipation of what was to come. The distant, nagging weight of guilt was softened by the haze that began to settle over you. This arrangement was a means to an end—nothing more, nothing less.

Vincent’s hand rested lightly on the gear shift, his fingers brushing your knee every so often. He didn’t need to say where he was going; the two of you had done this enough times to know the drill. Somewhere private, somewhere discreet. He took a turn, leaving the main road for a quieter stretch of side streets.

"You always make this worth my while," he said casually, glancing over at you with a grin. "No one else quite like you, Luna."

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes. "Flattery’s cute, Vincent. Keep it up, and I might even believe you."

He chuckled, reaching over to squeeze your thigh briefly. "Oh, trust me. I mean every word."

The city lights flickered past as you felt yourself settling into the rhythm of the moment. The mint had fully dissolved now, and your head felt lighter, the stress of the day melting away into the hum of the car and Vincent’s smooth talking. Whatever came next, you reminded yourself, you wouldn’t even remember.

Vincent took another turn, this one leading to a quiet, dimly lit parking lot. He pulled into an empty corner, cutting the engine. His hand moved to rest on your knee again, his touch firmer this time.

"Alright," he said, his smirk widening as he shifted to face you. "Let’s not make this quick, shall we?"

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. The sooner this was done, the sooner you could get back to your plans for the evening. Sliding your hand to his lap, you let routine take over, your mind already beginning to let go of the details of the moment.

Your lips moved up and down Vincent's length, the motion rhythmic, practiced, mechanical. The Forget-Me-Mint had kicked in by now, wrapping your thoughts in a haze, softening the sharp edges of guilt and disgust that might have otherwise pierced through. The lingering coolness of the mint had already been replaced by his salty taste, and though you tried to detach yourself from the act, there was no escaping the intimacy of the moment.

The car's interior was dimly lit by the nearby streetlamp, casting long shadows that danced across Vincent's face. His hand rested lightly on the back of your head, guiding but not forcing, as his breath hitched with every skilled flick of your tongue.

“Damn, you’re good at this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with pleasure.

You didn’t respond, didn’t acknowledge him beyond the slight shift of your lips around him. There wasn’t a need to. You focused on the task at hand, your hands steadying yourself against his thighs as you worked to bring this encounter to its inevitable conclusion.

The car was quiet except for the obscene wet sounds filling the air—your mouth on him, the slickness of saliva, the faint hitch of his breath, and the occasional hum of a passing car in the distance. It was a familiar scene, one that played out with increasing frequency lately, and yet, it still felt surreal every time.

Vincent leaned his head back against the seat, one hand gripping the edge of the door as his breathing grew heavier. “You really know how to make a guy feel special,” he said, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

You paused briefly, glancing up at him with a raised brow, his cock still resting against your lips. “I’m sure I’m not the first person who’s made you feel that way,” you said, your voice laced with dry humor.

He chuckled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Maybe not, but you’re definitely the best at it.”

Rolling your eyes, you resumed, letting his words slide off you like water. Compliments like that were part of the routine, but they didn’t mean anything—not to you, anyway.

As the minutes passed, you found yourself slipping further into autopilot, the mint’s magic working as intended, dulling the emotional weight of the moment. The act became just another task, another step in the routine you had come to accept as necessary.

Vincent’s hips bucked slightly as he neared the edge, and his breaths turned into shallow pants. “Fuck, Luna… Just like that. Don’t stop,” he said, his voice tight with urgency.

You complied, quickening your pace, your tongue swirling with precision, your hands working in tandem. You could feel the tension building in his body, the telltale signs that the end was near.

And then, with a deep groan, he came, his release spilling into your mouth. You swallowed without hesitation, the taste bitter and salty, clinging to your tongue despite the mint’s lingering coolness.

Sitting back slightly, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, glancing at Vincent as he tried to catch his breath. He reached for the glove compartment, pulling out a tissue and handing it to you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, cleaning up the remnants from your lips and chin.

Vincent grinned, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

You gave him a tight smile, folding the tissue neatly before tucking it into the cupholder. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

He laughed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. “Don’t worry, I know the drill.” He counted out the bills slowly, handing them over with a wink.

You took the cash, folding it neatly and slipping it into your clutch without a word. The mint’s effects would erase this from your memory soon enough, but for now, you were focused on the present.

“Ready to head back?” Vincent asked, starting the car as he adjusted his seat.

“Yeah,” you said softly, staring out the window as the car pulled out of the lot. You couldn’t wait for the Forget-Me-Mint to finish its job.