Standing, Cam looked back and forth between him and the workbench.“The what now?”
“The big metal baster thing.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you just say that?”
Nic rolled his eyes.“A glass too, please,” he said, then went to work, slowly twisting out the bung.He wanted to do this carefully so as not to waste any.When Cam appeared at his side, thief and glass in hand, Nic held him back with a hip.“It could bubble out, so stay back a little.”Cam’s hand on his ass didn’t help his concentration, but it fell away once Nic got the barrel open and a small bit of foamy head bubbled out, filling the air with yeasty, hoppy aromas.
“It’s beer,” Cam said, voice full of wonder.
Taking the glass and thief, Nic sucked up a sample big enough for two and deposited it in the glass.He balanced the thief on the adjacent barrel, then lifted the glass, examining.It was dark in color, smooth and thick in texture, and by its rich aroma, only a few months from where he wanted it.He took a sip.Full-bodied, roasted hops, a hint of Kona coffee, a dash of wood smoke, char, and malt, the brew was still a little sharp, but it was well on its way to mellowing out into something smooth and unique.Yes, not too long now.
He held the glass out to Cam.“Tell me what you think.”
“Am I supposed to swirl it like wine?”
“Only if you want to look like a hipster fool.”
Cam did stick his nose in the glass and take a giant sniff, which anyone who loved beer as much as he did would.“Smells fucking amazing.”Readjusting, he took a small sip at first, then face lighting up, a longer draught.Eyes closed, head tilted, he swallowed slowly, savoring it.
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.
