Chapter 6
BLAZE
Outside, snow falls steadily, making me wish I was curled up with Casimir on this Sunday afternoon instead of slinging beer. Not that I don't love what I do, but since Valentine's Day last week, we've spent every night together. The feel of his rounded stomach under my palm as I slid into him while we spooned this morning, and the hint of sugar that permeates his skin making every kiss, every lick, every taste saccharine sweet. The way his hole opens to me like it's been desperately waiting for my cock to fill it, sucking me in so deep, my eyes roll back into my head…
I adjust the semi that sprouts from thinking about my man.
But is he my man? Am I his? I rub the heel of my palm against my tight chest. The need to have the "let's be exclusive" conversation with him suddenly feels incredibly necessary.
The back pocket of my jeans vibrates, and I grab at it with the excitement of a teen experiencing his first crush. My smile is immediate.
Casimir: On my way.
Casimir: Be there in 10 minutes.
I tap out a quick response, then tuck my phone back into my pocket and take a breath to calm my heart doing the cha-cha. The feelings the man generates in me have left me light in a way I've not experienced. And slightly nauseous.
According to my mother, I hold my feelings "too close to the vest", so having someone affect me so completely is as unsettling as it is exciting.
"Blaze," Cam calls from the corner booth where he, Aspen, and Hercules sit crouched over their laptops, preparing for the spring start of the rugby club in April, while Apollo reads a book. "Do you plan on playing regularly?"
I pull back on the tap, filling a pitcher, then walk it over to the table. "Not sure. I'd feel like a dick if I said yes, then something came up here and I couldn't make it."
A roar goes up from the patrons, diverting our attention to the Power game on the flat screens hanging on either end of the bar. Leif Larsson steals the puck from Arizona in a move so smooth, he passes it to Axel Lavigne, who shoots it into the top right of the net, scoring, before the Arizona guy even realized the puck was gone.
Long legs stretched out, Apollo places his book on his lap. "With the restaurant, Rocco isn't able to play as much as he'd like."
"And Gage's schedule isn't easy. I don't know how firefighters handle those hours." Herc tucks a strand of Apollo's hair behind his ear and kisses him on the temple.
Before I can say anything, Cam waves at someone over my shoulder and calls, "Casimir."
My heart rate picks up and I spin toward the door. Snowflakes dot his navy wool hat and the shoulders of the matching navy puffer jacket, glistening before melting into dots of water. Ignoring the conversation, I stride toward him as he stomps the snow from his duck boots.
"Hey." I take the pink bakery box with the Costas Cookies logo from his hands. Holding it to my side, I wrap my other around his waist and pull him in for a much-needed kiss. Much needed for me, at least.
He melts into me with a sigh that sounds as contented as I feel at finally getting to see him. Yeah, we've only been apart for six hours, but being in his presence nourishes something in me. It may sound a little dramatic—which I am not—but Casimir has set my world into a spin in the best possible way.
With reluctance, and the promise for more when we're alone, he pulls his mouth from mine. "Hey." After unzipping his coat, he unwraps the bulky rainbow scarf and tips his chin to the box in my hand. "Thought I'd drop off some cookies to my favorite brewer."
"How many other brewers do you know?" I tease, lacing our fingers together and guiding him through the maze of tables toward the guys.
"Too many to count." He bumps my hip with his and lowers his voice, so I have to bend to hear him. "But you're the only one I let cuff me to the headboard and rim me until I'm practically sobbing to come."
An actual growl vibrates in my chest. The memory of the way he looked with his arms secured above his head and legs spread wide the first time I swiped my tongue over his hole etched itself into my brain where it will forever stay. Pale skin flushed the same pink as the frosting on his strawberry shortcake cookies, hair mussed from my hands, mouth opened in what looked like awe as whimpers fell from it. The whimpers turned to deep moans when, in the next minute, I devoured him like the starving man I was.
My dick stiffens, and I stop next to a thankfully empty table, glad the music is loud enough that other patrons can't hear our conversation. "You can't say that shit."
"Why?" The picture of innocence, he looks up at me, but I know behind that chaste expression lies an alluring, seductive, and ever arousing sexual adventurer. I've never been with a partner who was so open to trying new things and confident in what he wants. Or who I've had as much fun with in and out of bed.
I tug him closer and nip at the spot below his ear that I've learned drives him wild. "Because I've been walking around with a semi since the day you showed up at my door with cookies. The last thing my customers and staff want to see is a full-fledged woody."
"I don't know. It is an impressive woody. Maybe you could use it as a marketing tool." He shimmies his shoulders and waggles his eyebrows. "I'm sure people would flock here to catch a glimpse." He claps his hands together. "You could have specials. Spot the cock and get fifty percent off your next drink."
I clamp down on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing and fasten my expression in my sternest look. At least I try to look stern, but from the way he's grinning, I'm pretty sure I missed the mark.
"Be careful or I'll put you over my knee." I lower my voice and nip at his ear.
A tremble shudders through him. It's slight, but I feel it.
"That's not the threat you think it is." Chuckling, he winks, then removes the box from my grasp. We arrive at my friends' table and he places it in the middle. "I need taste testers."
Cam flips the lid open and plucks a dark chocolate cookie from the box. "Blaze, you better lock this one down before someone else snags him."
"Cam," Aspen whisper-scolds and punches his partner's arm.
"What? You don't think one of these two wouldn't snag him for his cookies alone?" He points the sandwich cookie at Herc and Apollo, who are both chomping on the sweet treats.
Apollo holds up what looks like a shortbread cookie. "Do I detect rosemary?"
"That's a lemon rosemary shortbread recipe I've been playing with. I haven't been able to get the balance right." Casimir hangs his coat on the chair I pulled over for him and sits.
Herc takes a bite from the cookie Apollo presses to his lips, closing his eyes and mulling over the flavors. "I think you've found it. The two flavors play off each other perfectly." He plucks another shortbread from the box and pops it in his mouth, humming and nodding. "I'd consider bringing in a third to our relationship for these."
"Me too," Apollo says, his cheeks bright red.
Cam's hand flies to his chest as he sucks in a shocked breath. "It's happened. Hercules has finally corrupted our sweet Apollo."
Herc narrows his eyes at Cam as Apollo's broad shoulders bounce. He places a tender kiss on Herc's cheek. "Not too sweet. Right, baby?"
"Ignore Cam and his ridiculousness." Aspen directs his gaze at Casimir and me, shaking his head in exasperation.
"You love it." Cam shoves the cookie in his mouth. His head falls back on a moan. "Oh. My. God. This is the best thing I've put in my mouth. Ever." He peeks one eye open and says to Aspen, "Sorry, babe."
Aspen rolls his eyes. "See? Ridiculous."
The tips of Casimir's ears redden, but his eyes shine with his laughter. "They're another new recipe I've been playing with." He darts a glance at me. "Dark chocolate infused with stout. I added chai, and the filling is a raspberry whipped cream."
"How'd you get the whipped cream so… stiff?" Cam grabs another one, breaks it in two and hands one half to Aspen. "Not sure if that's the correct word, but you know what I mean. And yes, there are so many jokes I could make, but I'll refrain." He plants a smacking kiss on Aspen's cheek.
"The secret is using heavy cream and not whipping cream. Heavy cream has a higher fat content, which holds it together a little better." Casimir's gaze keeps darting to me and he's twisting and untwisting the hem of his sweater like he's nervous.
I glance around the pub. We have a nice crowd, but nothing too overwhelming. At least I don't think so. I rest my palm on Casimir's shoulder and give it a squeeze to reassure him.
"I didn't know that." Hercules snags two chocolate cookies, gives one to Apollo, and they both bite into them.
From behind the bar, Marcus waves a hand over his head, capturing my attention, and points to the tap we've been having problems with. I lean down and place a kiss atop Casimir's head. "I'll be right back."
"Take one." He hands me a dark chocolate cookie, then grips the front of my shirt and tugs me closer. "You were the inspiration."
That shouldn't be a turn on, but my dick didn't get the memo. I take the cookie and plant a quick kiss on his lips. After breaking a piece of the cookie off, I pop it into my mouth as I return to the bar. Rich dark chocolate with the subtle spice of chai explodes on my tongue. The hint of sweetness reminds me of chocolate covered raspberries. And at the end, there's a faint, yet familiar hoppy flavor.
I stop in my tracks, glancing over my shoulder. Casimir chats amicably about recipes and taste profiles, asking Hercules questions about his lemon bars after Cam, Aspen, and Apollo rave about them.
He made a cookie. For me.
Warmth blooms at the base of my spine, wrapping itself around me until I'm tucked in, snug and secure. I round the bar and fiddle with the tap, twisting to the left, then right, then a half twist to the left again. Finally, I flick it twice with my finger.
Fixing the tap is second nature, so it's easy to keep my gaze on Casimir. Seeing him fit in with my friends is more than I knew I wanted. But there's also a part of me that doesn't want to share him.
At least, not right now.
I set a glass under the tap and pour. "Fixed," I say to Marcus.
"Thanks, boss."
Gaze still on Casimir, I return to him, marveling at how lucky I am to have had this creative, caring, brave man stumble into my life. Cam's right. I need to lock him down. He's become too important in a short time to take for granted.
I squeeze his shoulder. "Hey, can you come with me to my office?" I clear my throat. "There's something I want to show you."
"I bet there is," Cam mumbles behind his raised mug.
Aspen elbows him, though his lips are quivering like he's trying to hide his laughter, and whispers, "Be nice or he'll take the cookies, too."
"You should join the club," Cam says to Casimir.
"What club?" Casimir takes a napkin from the middle of the table and sweeps stray cookie crumbs from the gleaming wood and into the paper square.
Herc holds open his hand for the napkin and drops it onto the now empty plate sitting between him and Apollo. "Our rugby club. Cam is trying to get Blaze to play more than twice a season."
"And if you join, Blaze will have added incentive." Cam waggles his eyebrows with the same Golden Retriever energy that makes him so damn loveable.
Casimir pats his belly. "I'm not rugby material."
"Rugby's for everyone. Every body type. I think you'd make a great hooker or tighthead prop." Then Aspen points to Apollo. "Apollo never played until he joined us."
Nodding as he takes another cookie, Apollo says, "It's true. And the first game I played, I hurt one of the guys. I felt so bad I almost didn't come back." In a show of support, Hercules pats Apollo's thigh, rubbing his hand along it. Apollo's expression softens, and he covers Herc's hand with his much larger one. "But the club is more than rugby. It's family."
"You should come and watch. Hang out with Herc on the sidelines." He motions for Herc to hand him the plate, stacks it on top of his empty plate, and gives it to Sam, who's bussing the table next to them. "And bring cookies."
Casimir's laugh is as warm and rich as his shortbread cookies right out of the oven, and just as delicious. "Maybe I'll check it out. But if you want cookies, just text me whenever you're here and I'll drop off a box."
"Really?" Apollo sits up straighter, his expression one of anticipation.
Casimir rises from his seat and returns the chair to the table from where I borrowed it. "It'll give me an excuse to stop by and see this one."
He slips his arm through mine and squeezes it. I can't tell if it's letting me in on the joke or if he's holding on for fear of what I'll do or say. If he thinks for a minute, he needs an excuse to see me or call or text, then I've done a shitty job of letting him know how I feel about him. I bring the hand squeezing my biceps to my lips and brush a featherlight kiss along his knuckles. "You never need an excuse to see me."
Ignoring the awes and commentary from the table, I tug Casimir with me to the door next to the kitchen with the metal cast Employees Only sign. The din of conversations and the hockey game playing on the televisions dulls as we make our way down the short hallway to the lone door on the left marked Office in the same sign style.
"You created a cookie for me." Opening the door, I turn on the light. The door swings shut and I quickly lock it, before pushing him against it and slamming my mouth to him.
He moans against my lips, trailing his tongue along the seam. Of course, I open for him, because his taste is my favorite flavor. Better than any brew I develop. Better than any wine I've tasted. Better than any cookie he makes. Casimir is a flavor unto himself, and I'm a greedy man, hoarding his taste for me and me only.
The cool air hits my skin, followed by slightly warmer fingertips as he untucks the tee underneath my black waffle shirt and glides his hands over my overheated skin. The juxtaposition of his smooth lips and the scratch of his afternoon scruff have precum wetting my boxer briefs. I grab his ass, loving how his cheeks fill my hands and then some, tugging him closer, but it's not close enough. Unless I'm in him, it's never close enough. I push my knee between his legs, spreading them. The heat of his hardness sets my body on fire.
The need to claim him is so strong it is all there is in this moment. It doesn't matter that we're in my office. Or there's a pub full of patrons. Or that my friends are out there speculating about what we're doing. Sliding into his hot hole, feeling his walls clamp down on me when his orgasm hits, stealing his screams and swallowing them when I know he can't stay quiet…
"Need you," I pant.
He drops his head back with a thunk against the door, allowing me better access to his neck. "Yes."
With trembling fingers, I pluck my wallet from my back pocket, fumble it when he deftly unbuttons and unzips my jeans, then grips my aching cock, but I catch it and manage to get the condom and packet of lube out. I grab his wrist, stilling his jerking of me. Wound so tight, I'm two strokes away from blowing my load. "I'm clo?—"
Knock knock.
We both go motionless. Casimir's eyes widen then crinkle at the corners with unfettered amusement, even as his cheeks blush bright red.
Pulse pounding in my ears, I clear my throat and try—without success—to calm my breathing. "Yes?"
"The amber ale tap is doing that weird thing again. Marco and I tried fixing it, but no luck," Tilda calls through the door.
Casimir's hand still on my cock, my hand still wrapped around his wrist, and my brain still fogged with lust, I close my eyes and count to three.
"Blaze?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Tilda. I'll be out in a few." I look up at the ceiling in an effort to redirect the blood from my dick to my head. "This must be what it's like to have kids. Unintentional cockblocking," I mumble under my breath.
Casimir drops his forehead to my chest, his shoulders bouncing in silent laughter. I can't help but smile and kiss the top of his head even though my staff is thwarting any chance of me having hot office sex big time.
"Okay," Tilda says.
We remain silent as her footsteps retreat. The door at the end of the hallway opens, then closes.
"Sorry," I say, my dick slowly softening in Casimir's grip. I loosen my grasp on his wrist and step back. "For the record, this wasn't why I asked you back here." I tuck myself back into my underwear and tug my jeans over my ass.
Casimir straightens his sweater and smooths his hands over his hair. "I'm up for a quickie anytime." The corner of his mouth quirks. "For the record."
How he's able to mix adorable with sexy is beyond me, but he does it. And I don't want anyone else to discover the recipe. I want to be the only adventurer to make the discovery and I want to keep it all to myself.
Am I mixing metaphors?
Yes.
Do I care?
Hell no. I only care about having the conversation that is too early to have. But everything with Casimir has been unexpected.
I drag him to the chair behind my desk and onto my lap as I plop into it. A school of dying fish flops in my stomach, but the weight of him soothes and grounds me. "These last two weeks have been the best I've experienced in… too long to count."
"The best," he agrees, cupping my cheek and smoothing his thumb back and forth.
I lean into the comfort. His eyes, so full of kindness, chase away my nerves. I twist my head and press my lips to his palm, then take his hand and hold it over my heart. "I know it's probably too soon, but what would you say about being exclusive?" Being a chickenshit, I don't give him a chance to answer because if he says no, I want to draw out every last second of hope. "You know… like boyfriends, which sounds juvenile at our age. So, if you prefer partners, or?—"
He cuts me off with his lips and I melt into his feel, his taste, him . He pulls back and I chase his mouth, but he holds me at bay with his hands on my shoulders. "Yes."
"Yes?" I blink while my brain pushes through the fog of his kiss. And then it clicks. My grin explodes as fireworks light up my insides in a spectacle of colors. "Yeeess?"
"Yes." Wide and full, his smile matches mine. "Yes, to boyfriends." Kiss . "And partners." Kiss. "And lovers." Kiss. "And beaus and paramours and beloveds." Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. "Yes, to being exclusive."
With every word, every kiss, my chest loosens. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I crush him in a bear hug. His laughter, muffled in my neck, heats my skin.
When he looks up, his eyes sparkle so bright it's like sitting next to a star. I tip his chin up with my finger and our lips meet, sealing our agreement. The rightness of him, of us, sinks in. This is the beginning of something magical, and I can't wait for our future to unfold together.
All because of a wrong number.