A Quick Break (a.k.a. backroom blowjobs)
Charles and Michael have kept things appropriately professional for years — but they can’t manage it forever.
3.6k, cis M/cis M erotic short. Involves alcohol with no inebriation; light Dom/sub dynamics.
“Guess who’s wrapped up another one.”
Pausing briefly in the middle of stacking the clean shot glasses at the back of the bar, Charles smiled to himself at the greeting from behind him. He recognized the man’s deep voice immediately, of course; how could he not. Michael had been coming here after every court case he had for years, now.
“I’m going to take a wild guess,” Charles called over his shoulder, snagging Michael’s favourite whiskey and a glass of ice without looking back at the bar, “and say from your tone that you also won it.”
When he did turn around, sliding the drink onto the polished wood bartop with a little flourish and a smile, Michael was grinning broadly at him.
“You bet I did,” Michael said. Lifting his glass in salute, the stocky, broad-shouldered lawyer flashed Charles a wink and tossed back half his whiskey in one go.
Stifling a smirk — the wink was every bit as ridiculous and ridiculously charming as it always was, and he was not, in a million years, about to admit out loud to thinking that — Charles dipped his head in a little nod of acknowledgement and glanced around the bar. It was quiet; Nina would be able to cover things easily for a minute or two.
“You do know it is a crime, though,” he said seriously, raising an eyebrow and leaning both elbows down on the bartop with his arms folded. At Michael’s questioning look, he nodded towards the glass. “Having something that nice on the rocks? I ought to have my bartending license revoked for even making it for you.”
Michael grinned and deliberately took another sip. Charles carefully didn’t watch the lawyer’s throat move above his loosened tie while he swallowed.
Much.
“And yet, you do,” Michael commented, something thoughtful and… maybe just a little heated creeping into his tone.
A tiny smile tugging at his mouth, Charles shrugged. “And yet, I do.”
“Every time I win a case, no less,” Michael continued. “Which I pretty much always do, of course.”
Charles snorted. “Humble as ever.”
“Maybe I ought to properly thank you for that,” Michael said, and this time… There was no missing the way his eyes, watching Charles intently, flickered down to Charles’s shoulders, arms, hands, and back up again.
It wasn’t the first time, but it was definitely the most obvious. Charles licked his lips, glancing idly around the bar again. “Ah, c’mon. You know I don’t let anyone buy me drinks until the end of my shift.”
“Mhm. Good thing that’s not what I meant, isn’t it,” Michael said casually, and Charles looked back just in time to see a hint of colour rise in the lawyer’s smooth-shaven cheeks.
“What did you mean, then?” he found himself asking in a low voice — completely against his better judgement, but… He’d behaved himself, stayed professional in the face of Michael’s subtle flirting, for more than long enough. Especially over the last year or so. If Michael was at the point of being more direct about his interest, well… Charles was only human, after all.
And it hadn’t escaped his notice that Michael hadn’t mentioned his “other half” in quite awhile now. Charles didn’t think the ‘why’ of that was any of his business, really.
Michael, who had momentarily buried his slightly flushed face into his glass, glanced back to see Charles watching him intently, and blushed a little harder. A curl of anticipation flared up, twisting warm and tight through Charles’s middle at the sight of the normally confident, composed, professional lawyer getting so visibly flustered.
“Well,” Michael answered, voice just a little rough, “why don’t you take a quick break and I’ll show you.”
His eyes drifted lower again while he spoke, gaze lingering blatantly on Charles’s tattooed forearms below his neatly rolled-up white sleeves. Charles hesitated for half a second longer — he probably shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t; but wasn’t that half the fun, when you really got down to it? — and then he straightened up.
“Hey, Nina? Think I’ll take my fifteen, you good out here for a bit?”
Quickly downing the last of his whiskey with a little thrill of anticipation — it had been a very long time since he’d hooked up with anyone; not since before Alex — Michael slid off the barstool and followed Charles around past the washrooms, eyeing the tall bartender appreciatively as they walked. Charles keyed in a quick code to unlock the employees-only door at the end of the short hallway and led the way through, holding it open for Michael as well.
“Give you a tour of the back room?” Charles offered with a warm, crooked smirk as the door clicked shut behind them.
“Sounds great,” Michael answered. Excitement was already swirling hot through his gut, the early twinges of arousal tightening his groin every time his shoulder brushed against Charles’s arm while they headed through the cluttered storage room — and a moment later, the light pressure of the bartender’s hand slipped under his open suit jacket to rest on the small of his back and set both excitement and arousal flaring higher together.
“This way,” Charles said, directing him around a shelf stacked with boxes, and less than a minute later, Michael was backed up against the scuffed wall, Charles’s long, leanly muscled form warm against his front and the bartender’s breath teasingly hot on his lips.
“This what you had in mind?” Charles murmured, lips curving up and his mouth brushing lightly over Michael’s again in something that was hot and promising and not quite a kiss.
Yet.
“Getting there,” Michael answered, and Charles’s smile had just enough time to flash into a grin before Michael slid a hand impatiently up the back of the bartender’s neck and pulled Charles’s mouth fully down onto his.
Charles made a soft mmh sound against his lips, both hands running warm up Michael’s back and his hips pressing forward to pin Michael harder to the wall. Months of pent-up, simmering desire — maybe even years of it in this case, if he was being honest — blossomed hot and urgent in Michael’s core with a dizzying swoop of excitement that left him lightheaded. He couldn’t even quite breathe for the space of a few pounding heartbeats, Charles’s mouth pressed tight to his… and then those lips moved, parted, and Charles’s tongue met his.
Hot, wet, and careful at first, delicate and probing, little brushes and flicks of sensation — but it didn’t stay that way for long. Michael felt the brush of air over his cheek as Charles inhaled and groaned, a quiet noise in the back of his throat, mouth opening a little further and his hips rolling forward in a sinuous, full-body motion that immediately made Michael’s rapidly-filling cock twitch with interest.
He sure wasn’t the only one getting hard; far from it, if the thickening rod of heat rubbing against the front of his hip and belly were any indication. Already panting a little, yet another lurch of excitement thrilling through him, Michael slipped a hand down between them to palm that stiffening heat through the close-fitting black jeans the bartender usually wore along with his dark waistcoat. A low groan rose in his chest as Charles’s hips rocked into his touch in another almost-thrust, Charles’s teeth sharp but gentle as he broke the long, deep kiss with a faint grunt and caught Michael’s bottom lip in a teasing hint of a bite.
“Fuck,” Michael managed, breathing hard, mouth watering and fingers curling around the shape of Charles’s cock, the heat of him almost seeming to pulse right through the denim of his jeans.
Charles nipped briefly at Michael’s kiss-swollen lip again, head ducking to nuzzle an open-mouthed kiss into the side of his neck. “Got me all worked up… Don’t tell me you’re gonna make me go finish my shift like this?”
Breathing a laugh, Michael let his head fall back, giving the bartender more room to mouth at his neck and throat and jaw while he kept exploring, rubbing Charles slowly through his pants. “I’d consider it… If I hadn’t been wanting to do this for so long.”
Back still against the wall, Michael slid slowly down to his knees, licking his lips with a smirk, face tilting up to watch Charles’s expression while he went. Charles’s eyes stayed on him the whole time, one hand bracing on the wall and the other following Michael down to tangle loosely in his hair. Michael blushed a little — no way in hell was it going to be anything less than immediately obvious exactly what sort of things they’d gotten up to back here, when he inevitably came back out with his hair disheveled and suit rumpled, knees probably dirty from the damn floor — but mostly, the idea of people knowing just turned him on even more.
Though, there were limits.
“Do not ruin the suit,” he warned, briskly yanking Charles’s belt, button, and zipper open one after another while he spoke. “I mean it. And I like this tie in particular.”
“Mm,” Charles hummed thoughtfully, fingers trailing over Michael’s scalp and then down his neck in lines of shivers. “Silk?”
“And Italian,” Michael answered distractedly, tugging the front of Charles’s undone jeans down far enough to reveal the erection straining at his form-hugging underwear.
“Better make sure not to spill anything on it, then,” Charles said, his voice low, throaty, playful yet… commanding in a way that instantly set Michael’s cock throbbing with need in his own pants.
Oh, shit. I’m going to be way too into this, aren’t I, Michael thought distantly, a renewed flush heating his cheeks. Even as he eased the waistband of Charles’s boxer-briefs down, his eyes were drawn upwards instead, ensnared by the approving gaze fixed steadily down at him.
…Oh, well.
Charles groaned out a soft curse as the slick-warm pressure of Michael’s tongue dragged slowly up the underside of his cock from base to tip, with a cheeky little flick at the end for good measure. The lawyer hadn’t dropped his gaze for a second while he did it, either, mouth open and tongue out, eyes up and locked on Charles’s own.
Fingers curling loosely in Michael’s hair, Charles experimentally let his hips roll forward, slow and careful, just to see whether Michael would react the way Charles was starting suspect he would.
Sure enough, Michael’s eyes fluttered half shut and a low groan of pleasure rose in his throat as he dropped his hands to his lap and let Charles slide forward into his mouth, pause, and pull back out again. A slow smile spreading over his face, Charles did it again, one hand at the back of Michael’s head and the other cupping his cheek and jaw.
“You like that?” he asked, just to make sure. Breathing hard, he stroked his thumb over Michael’s flushed cheek, his cock giving an eager little jerk when Michael sucked noisily at the tip with an obscene slurp and a quiet mmmm of pleasure.
“Uhn-huhn,” Michael answered, though it was a little muffled and devolved into another moan as Charles thrust slowly into his mouth again.
Charles hissed a breath in through his teeth as his cockhead nudged into the top of the lawyer’s throat — and then Michael took him briefly even deeper, the hot squeeze intensifying as he swallowed around Charles’s cock before sliding back off again and drawing a slightly ragged breath.
“Oh, hell, that’s good,” Charles said, a breathless groan of a laugh rising in his own throat. “Gonna let me come down that lovely throat of yours?” he asked, thumb trailing down under the line of Michael’s jaw to rest lightly on the hollow of his neck just beneath.
“I’d be a little disappointed if you didn’t,” Michael said, voice already faintly raspy from use, and Charles groaned again.
They didn’t have a lot of time — not that he was going to need it, like this — so Charles got a gentle but firm grip in the lawyer’s increasingly untidy hair and started thrusting in and out of that warm, willing mouth.
Aside from being careful not to go too hard, Charles didn’t try to hold himself back or draw things out. Michael took it better than well; Charles made sure to tell him so, noting through his own growing distraction the way Michael’s panting, needy moans around his cock just got louder and needier at the praise. And between the slick heat of Michael’s lips and tongue sliding along his straining cock on every thrust, the sight of the lawyer’s flushed face and watery-eyed gaze, and the obscenely wet sounds as he fucked Michael’s face, it was a matter of minutes before the heated tension twisting in his groin tightened and snapped.
Charles peaked with a choked-out warning and one last jerk of his hips, before he forced them — mostly — to go still so Michael could take over. And take over he did, sucking eagerly at Charles’s throbbing cock with a fervent moan, his eyes closing and head bobbing while Charles spilled out over his tongue with a series of breathless, shuddery gasps.
By the time Charles finished, caught his breath a little, and eased reluctantly back out of that soft, slick warmth, Michael was still waiting mostly patiently, eyes blown wide and dark with lust, his hands still on his thighs and fisted tight in the fabric of his suit pants — which were tented extremely obscenely over his crotch.
“Give you a hand with that?” Charles offered, tucking himself away as he spoke, his gaze wandering appreciatively up Michael’s broad, slowly-heaving chest to linger on those swollen, spit-shiny lips.
Michael nodded immediately, rising to his feet with a quiet groan — and Charles grinned, brushed a kiss over Michael’s mouth that was more a deliberately filthy lick than anything else, and spun him around by the hips just so he could crowd the lawyer up against the wall from behind.
Ignoring the desire to see if Michael would let Charles make him make a mess of those neat, tidy suit pants — tidy save for the freshly dust-scuffed knees, at least — Charles slid a hand down to grip the rigid heat of the lawyer’s cock through his clothes with an appreciative grunt. Michael groaned again, breath hitching as his hips swayed forward into the touch, and Charles chuckled quietly, ducking his head to inhale into the curve of Michael’s neck and giving him a brief, pointed squeeze-and-tug before letting go again.
Not for long, only long enough to make quick work of Michael’s belt and fly; then he wrapped one hand around the hot, heavy thickness of Michael’s shaft and gripped the lawyer’s hip tight with the other.
From Michael’s reaction, he wouldn’t need much time like this, either.
Michael shuddered, hips jerking and hands curling into fists against the wall as the bartender started stroking him off with steady, not-quite-fast-enough pumps of his hand.
“You do like being told what a good job you’ve done, don’t you? Doesn’t matter if it’s sucking cock or winning a case,” Charles was saying in his ear, slightly breathless voice a perfect husky mix of smooth and hoarse, tinged with exactly the right amount of indulgent amusement to make Michael’s legs tremble and his straining cock leap in that firm grip. “Oh, and you like hearing that, hmm? I bet it makes you hard when you win, too, doesn’t it… Big-shot lawyer, pitching a tent under your little table in the courtroom where nobody can see?”
Breath coming in ragged pants, face flaming with arousal and embarrassment that only fed into one another, Michael managed a jerky nod of assent. Charles made a pleased humming sound that was halfway to a quiet growl, hand speeding up a little and his hips rolling forward to press against Michael’s ass in a brief thrust. He wasn’t hard — like that, Michael would have felt if he was — but it was more than enough to tighten Michael’s groin with a hot jolt of lust and need and make his cock jerk helplessly in the bartender’s skilled grip all over again.
Charles obviously felt it, too, because he breathed a low, delighted laugh, and did it again.
“Next time,” he murmured, grinding against Michael’s ass with every deliberately suggestive rolling thrust and ducking his head in to lick and nip at Michael’s neck just under the line of his shirt collar, “next time, I should make you wait until I can take you home — ” Michael shuddered again, panting, back arching to push back into Charles’s groin while the bartender kept going, hand tightening further on Michael’s half-bare hip — “fuck you properly, give you everything you want and then make you moan and howl for even more — ”
One, two, three more quick pumps of Charles’s hand while he spoke, accompanied by the bartender’s heated, throaty growl into Michael’s neck, and Michael was done for. The demanding tension in his gut tightened and snapped in a rippling burst of heat and pleasure and release; he barely managed to stifle the cry that tried to wrench from his throat, keeping it down to a strangled, shuddering gasp instead.
Leaning heavily against the wall, he stared down, watching Charles’s hand working over his cock while he spurted glistening streaks and spatters down the wall and all over the floor between his shoes. A low, shivering groan rose in his chest as the bartender hummed into his neck, hand slowing but still coaxing the last few feeble pulses of come from Michael’s dripping, helplessly twitching cock, until he was trembling, panting, and utterly spent.
Charles’s lips, curved in a pleased smile, brushed over Michael’s neck one more time before the tall bartender straightened with a deeply contented sigh. He deftly tucked Michael’s softening cock back into his underwear for him with one final, light squeeze that brought a faint, huffed whimper to Michael’s lips and made his hips sway forward into the touch all over again before he caught himself.
Heat rising to his face along with an unstoppable grin, Michael hurriedly fastened his pants back up and turned around — to find Charles watching him with a fond smile, head cocked and kiss-plumped bottom lip caught between white teeth.
“I, um… I hope I didn’t… overstep?” Charles said, an expression of slightly apologetic chagrin flickering over his face. “With all the talking.”
Michael’s grin widened as he shook his head. Acting on impulse, he reached out to take Charles by the hand and pull him in closer.
“Not in the slightest,” Michael answered honestly, his voice coming out sounding more than a little raw and wrecked even to his own ears. That had been the best handjob — hell, the best orgasm — he’d had in ages.
He could feel a smear of slippery warmth on Charles’s fingers, so he brought the bartender’s hand to his mouth and slowly, deliberately, licked his own come from Charles’s hand with a little suck at the end for good measure. Charles watched him do it, groaning softly, eyes bright and intense — and then he leaned in, Michael’s hand still caught in his.
Their lips met again and Michael melted into it, rekindled heat beginning to spread through him all over again from the slow, lazy exploration of Charles’s lips and tongue on his.
Charles did pull back before very long, though, leaving both of them breathing hard, and gazed at Michael with a faintly pained and deeply regretful expression.
“I really can’t draw out my break any longer,” he said ruefully, one hand at Michael’s sweat-damp lower back under his suit jacket and the other absently stroking little tingling trails along Michael’s jaw. “I won’t hear the end of it from Nina as it is. But — ” Charles continued briskly, taking a small step back and straightening Michael’s tie while he spoke. Michael raised his chin, enjoying the touch and gentle pressure of Charles’s fingers at his chest and neck. “ — I actually get off early at eleven tonight. I don’t know if you had other plans, or…?”
“No other plans,” Michael said, and flashed Charles his best purposely-cocky grin. “I might complain if you ‘get off’ too early after your shift’s done, though.”
Charles groaned, shook his head, and strode over to get a fistful of paper towels damp at the nearby sink. “Terrible puns, now? That does it, no more drinks on the house for you.”
“None at all?” Michael raised an eyebrow and raked his gaze pointedly down to Charles’s crotch. “You sure about that?”
With a snorted laugh, Charles wiped up the sticky spatters from the wall and floor and tossed the wadded-up paper towels in the garbage. After pausing to wash his hands, he came back and leaned in close enough for his lips to brush Michael’s ear.
“You’ve had yours tonight already,” he murmured. “Maybe I want a taste, too.”
With a teasing flick of his tongue and one final, suggestive grin, Charles stepped away and headed for the door leading back into the main bar.
Michael, after taking a brief moment to close his eyes and draw a steadying breath, swept a hand through his hair in a largely futile attempt to neaten it up and followed. Settling back onto his barstool a minute or two later with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, he watched Charles slide smoothly back into his work persona behind the bar.
Watching Charles’s hands, and seeing how subtly but thoroughly he could distract the bartender for the rest of his shift, Michael decided after a few more minutes, was absolutely the best use of his time this evening.
At least, it would be until Charles took him home for the night… and, hopefully, made him pay for being distracting in the most rewarding way possible.
