A Hard Day’s Work

Trouble Brewing Bonus Content

By Layla Reyne

Nic worked hard. Federal prosecutor. Liaison between the local US Attorneys’ Office and FBI field office. Co-owner of Gravity Craft Brewery.

As Assistant Special Agent in Charge, Cam witnessed the first two daily, riding in to the Federal Building with Nic each morning and frequently working cases together. As Nic’s boyfriend, he’d seen more and more of the brewery owner too, the two of them spending much of their spare time at Gravity. Evenings, weekends, and sometimes in the middle of the night, if this or that pressure sensor went off and Nic’s phone woke them with an alert. But Cam hadn’t fully understood just how hard Nic worked—how involved his side-hustle was—until today.

With Nic’s co-owner out on an emergency Coast Guard operation, Nic was managing Gravity’s latest release solo. Sure, the brewery had assistant managers and other staff, but they were all bustling around the event area and backlot, setting up for the big release party tonight. Cam and Nic were left to run things in the warehouse—tracking inventory, moving boxes, shifting pallets, and loading crates for each distributor, shipper or restaurant that pulled up to the loading dock.

It was a day full of hard physical labor. And unintended foreplay that had cranked Cam’s sexual frustration up to the max. Stolen seconds of eyeing Nic’s lean, powerful limbs and ripped torso, imagining the sway of the tattoos under his snug Gravity tee. Countless minutes of reveling in the pride shining from Nic’s blue eyes and daydreaming of tasting the sweat that trickled from his graying temples. Too many tempting hours of drowning in the scent of man—the one Cam loved best.

So when they finally reached the end of their long hard day—after the last shipment was packed on its truck, the boxes sorted in the warehouse, and the forklift parked away—and Nic practically fell into his office, Cam fell to his knees in front of him, determined to get some payback for his frustration and to reward them both for their hard work.

“Cam, what—”

“If you have to ask what I’m doing, you’re not half as smart as I thought you were,” Cam said, right before he shoved Nic’s knees apart and buried his face in his lover’s crotch.

Nic groaned and his thighs quaked beneath Cam’s hands. Taking advantage of the rare moment of weakness, Cam wrapped his fingers under Nic’s knees and yanked him forward, sliding his ass closer to the edge of the chair where Cam could exact revenge for the torture he’d suffered all day. Mouthing Nic’s straining cock through the denim, Cam teased the growing length. He added a hand between Nic’s legs, fondling his balls and taint too.

“Jesus, Boston,” Nic moaned as he squirmed in the chair, like he couldn’t decide if it was better to thrust more of his cock at Cam’s face or demand more pressure from Cam’s hand. But while his body was obviously on board for either, his mind was still making a protest. Arguing was the other thing they did best, after all. “Anyone could come in.”

A token protest, judging by the way Nic whimpered when Cam removed his hand and mouth. And they’d fucked back here before, after the great pumpkin-keg incident. Only then it’d been Nic exacting revenge; now it was Cam’s turn.

“Your co-owner is gone,” Cam said, as he worked free the button on Nic’s fly and lowered the zipper. “And your assistant managers and staff are all too busy to notice the boss man missing.” He pushed the denim ends aside, dipped a hand inside Nic’s briefs, and pulled free his cock. “It’s just us, baby.”

Cam leaned back over and nuzzled Nic’s groin again, this time getting the full effect. Musk, sweat, and Nic. He ran a tongue up the underside of Nic’s erect cock. The taste on his tongue… mmm… even better than the Gravity Imperial Stout Cam loved so much. Wanting more, he closed his lips over the tip, sucking hard, then hollowed out his cheeks as he kept up the suction all the way down to the root.

Other than his cock, the rest of Nic’s body went limp—hips tilting up, ass scooting forward, arms dangling over the armrests, and head hitting the chair back with a thunk. Surrender; but Cam wasn’t done with his payback yet.

He sucked up and down twice more then pulled off, setting back on his haunches to enjoy the view. “Seeing you do something else you love today was almost as much of a turn on as seeing you suited-up for the courtroom.”

Nic righted his head, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy with lust. “Almost?”

Cam smirked. “You wear a suit better than anyone, Counselor.” He ran his hands over Nic’s trembling thighs, preparing to get back to operation-blow-their-minds when Nic put a hand on his shoulder, holding him off.

“I think I have a solution to your ‘almost’?” He tilted right, reaching out and opening one of his desk drawers. He rooted around inside and after a moment, righted himself with a metallic blue necktie in-hand. Once Nic had learned that tie was Cam’s favorite, he’d bought at least half a dozen more, and he’d apparently stashed them everywhere. Grinning, Nic draped the tie around his neck. “Better?”

Cam laughed. The tie looked ridiculous hanging over Nic’s rucked-up tee-shirt, but taken together with the erect dick jutting out of his jeans and the about-to-get-fucked look on his face, the whole picture was hot-as-hell. “I’ve only got one complaint,” Cam said.

“Oh yeah, Boston, what’s that?”

“That that tie isn’t wrapped around your cock.”

“Christ, the mouth on you.” And by the way said cock hardened even more, Nic wanted Cam’s mouth back on him.

“You like it,” Cam said with a wink. Then he gave them both what they wanted, taking Nic’s cock in his fist and guiding it back to his mouth.

“Thank fuck.” Nic raked a hand through Cam’s hair, grasping at the sweat-damp strands.

Cam hummed in pleasure. Nic wasn’t trying to seize control; he was just hanging on for the ride, which Cam was determined to give them. He worked Nic over, setting a relentless rhythm, one Cam mirrored with his other hand fisted around his own cock, stroking in time. He loved getting them both off this way.

Nic’s cock swelled in his mouth—his lover was close—which drove Cam to the edge faster as well. Nic bucked up, and froze. It took Cam a moment to realize his boyfriend wasn’t frozen in the about-to-come way.  

And in the next moment, he heard it.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

High heels striking the brewery’s cement floor. Growing louder as their owner approached the office. Cam knew that gait, knew the only person it could be.

Fuck.

He moved to stand, and Nic moved the opposite direction, rolling the chair forward, spreading his knees on either side of Cam, and shoving Cam under the desk. The sweaty tie hit Cam’s face, and a split-second after that, the door opened.

“Price,” Melissa Cruz barked, like she was still in charge. And—honestly—she still was, at least with respect to their crew of friends. “We have a problem.”

Cam agreed. A hard dick in his face and a hard dick in his pants, plus an unexpected visitor who was the best agent he’d ever known, and was now a badass bounty hunter, equaled big problem. Mel cased every room she entered. Would she detect him hiding under the desk? It had a full wooden front—she couldn’t see him—but could she smell him? Smell what was about to go down in this room before she’d barged in? Or would all the day’s sweat cover them?

Nic’s mask did a good job of covering too. Cool, calm and collected, as always. “Maybe we should take this elsewhere,” he said to Mel.

Great idea, otherwise Cam wasn’t getting out of the too-small hole for his broad six-foot frame. Except how was Nic going to go anywhere with this pants undone? Cam tilted forward to help zip him up. Nic kicked him for the effort.

Mel, however, was becoming a bigger problem. “On the contrary,” she said. “I’m right where we need to be.”

“What’s going on, Cruz?” Nic said.

“One of my bounties may be here at Gravity. Tonight.” By some grace of God, her footsteps retreated, away from the desk. “Meet me at the bar in five, and I’ll brief you.”

Cam breathed a sigh of relief, until…

“And bring Cam with you.”

He was glad she couldn’t see him turn fourteen shades of Irish red.

The door shut, and Nic let out a peel of laughter. “You should see your face right now, Boston.”

“You kicked me!”

“I was five seconds from coming. I didn’t need your hands anywhere near my dick, especially with Mel in the room.”

Now no one was coming, for the time being. But Cam wasn’t about to let Nic forget they’d finish this later. He moved quickly, looping the tie around Nic’s dick and tying it in one of the sailor’s knots he’d learned as a kid. Not so tight as to cut off Nic’s circulation—heaven forbid—but tight enough to keep it in place, until Cam could take it off again later, preferably with his teeth.

He sat back, grinning. “I do like it better there.”

Nic’s lips slammed down onto his, tongue diving between his lips and making Cam dizzy with the want he still tasted there. “I wonder…” He nipped at Cam’s lips. “Who’s more turned on by this? Me or you?”

Cam knew the answer, but no way was he conceding this fight. At least not until later, when they’d surrender together. “You’ll have to wait to find out.” He pressed his smiling lips to Nic’s. “I promise it’ll be worth it, for both of us.”


Copyright 2018. Layla Reyne.