Chapter 11 #2
It was all Nic could do not to run his tongue up the side of his neck and over his bobbing Adam’s apple.
Cam righted his head and opened his eyes, the darkness swirling with unconcealed appreciation and pleasure.
“Nic, this is the best fucking stout I’ve ever tasted.
” That meant a lot coming from an Irishman.
Cam took another longer gulp before handing the glass back to Nic.
“The whiskey barrels give it a wicked taste.”
“Finish,” Nic said with a wink. He’d teach Cam the proper terminology eventually. In that future he was starting to believe in. The one where he closed the case against Vaughn, bottled his special brew, and inked his left hip.
A hand waved in his face. “Finish what? When?”
Nic shook his head, chuckling, as he mentally tallied the years terminology lessons would seemingly take.
Years he’d be happy to spend with this man.
“It’s not done yet.” He pointed to the barrels, saving the lesson for later.
“It still has a little aging to go in the barrels, then in the bottles. I’m hoping to have it ready for St. Patrick’s Day. ”
“Which stout is this? It doesn’t taste like the Gravity ones I know.”
“Because it’s yours. Fighting Boston Irish Stout.
” When Cam didn’t say anything, Nic filled the silence with more words, carrying on as he returned the glass and thief to the workbench.
“Danny had the barrels brought over from the Jameson distillery. I thought it appropriate. It’s your stout, an imperial, but also our family’s, a little of all of us in a way. We all had a—”
Hand on his shoulder, Cam spun him around, cutting off his words with a thief of a kiss—stealing his breath, his heart, his whole world.
He could take it all as long as Nic got to spend the rest of his life tasting his beer on Cam’s lips.
He’d never tire of the taste, especially this one. His best beer.
Their beer.
“You like?” Nic mumbled between snatched breaths.
“Yes, I fucking like.” Mouth drifting over his jaw, down his neck, Cam forced his head back, exposing his throat to tongue and teeth while his fingers worked open the rest of Nic’s shirt buttons.
“And I’m going to show you how much right now.
” Nic groaned as warm hands glided up his torso, chasing away the chill of the cool distillery.
Cam pushed the shirt off his shoulders, pressed a thigh against his erection, and skirted his lips over the shell of his ear.
“I love it so much I’m going to bend you over those barrels and fuck you. ”
Knees weak, Nic flailed for the workbench behind him. Cam held him up instead by his ass cheeks, hauling him in and grinding their cocks together. “You like?”
“Yes, I fucking like,” Nic moaned, mirroring Cam’s earlier words, though with a truckload more desperation that he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about.
He was, however, going to be embarrassed if he came in his pants like a teenager, and at the rate they were going, snatching kisses and touches amid the rough rocking of their hips, that embarrassing conclusion was fast approaching.
He needed to get Cam moving faster. One surefire way to do that.
“You gonna talk or act?” he challenged, purposely picking an argument.
Sure enough, Cam stepped back, dark eyes blazing with lust and competition. “Says the man who talks for a living.”
Nic pushed off the workbench, closing the distance between them again. “Not seeing the man of action.”
Cam grabbed him by the belt. “I’ll show you action.”
The race to shed each other’s clothes was on. By the time they were done, naked, heaving, and hard, Nic was braced over a barrel, hands wrapped around either end, legs spread wide, ass inviting. He grinned over his shoulder as Cam ripped into two packets of lube. “And you were prepared.”
“Snagged them from your office before you got here.” He emptied the packets into his hand, rubbed his palms together, warming the lube, then took himself in hand, stroking as he stalked back over. He slid his other slick hand down Nic’s crack, stretching and teasing his hole.
Nic’s grin died on a groan. “Oh fuck.”
Cam leaned over him, warm body and hot breath all around. “In a minute, baby, I promise.” He continued to tease, to open him up, in time with his other hand shuttling up and down his cock.
Nic rocked his hips with the rhythm, riding back on Cam’s hand and fighting to keep the tension in his arms. He had to.
Otherwise, he’d tip this end barrel and the others would go rolling off their racks as well.
Dominos. Like the senses connecting his body to his heart, falling at the smell of them wafting together with the beer, the hot heat of bodies and sweat against the cool air, the sound of Cam getting him ready, the feel of his fingers inside him, the expectation of more. “Please, Cameron.”
“Yeah, baby, you’re ready.”
Cam’s hand disappeared, replaced by something infinitely better, cock stretching him wider and filling him full.
Pain gave way to pleasure and Nic hung his head, groaning in satisfaction.
Cam’s echo of the same boomed behind him.
A slick hand landed on Nic’s left hip where it belonged, as Cam guided him, picked their rhythm back up, then played it faster, going harder.
This wasn’t one of those fucks where they nipped and kissed and savored the connection.
This was action, just like Nic had wanted tonight.
In control of their actions, their world, together. The both of them racing ahead after two days of clearing roadblocks, work and otherwise.
“Why haven’t we done this before?” Cam asked between grunts.
“Done what?”
“Fucked back here in the distillery.”
“Didn’t have the barrels before.”
Cam reached around, grabbing Nic’s dick with his warm, slick hand. “Then I’m even more excited about my beer.” He bit his shoulder and Nic had to fight again not to collapse. “Hope it’s a regular feature.”
Nic laid a hand over Cam’s other one on his hip, their fingers tangling. “I plan for it to be, for a long time. If you’d like that.”
He wasn’t just talking about the beer.
Cam followed, judging by his sharp inhale and the pounding in Nic’s ass that ratcheted up in intensity. Cam’s hand under his slid around his torso and up, until it softly circled his neck, angling his head around.
Dark, hooded eyes bored into his. Yeah, he got it. Cam’s answer was in his eyes, in his kiss, in the taste of love mixed with stout, and in the “Yes, I like,” he whispered in Nic’s ear as they came together.