Erotic short. A pub manager gets a helping hand at work.
900w. Cis M/trans M. Doggy sex, semi-public, dirty talk, casual sex, sex at work!
It’s busy in the pub, and to be honest, Dane doesn’t have time for this. There’s customers coming in and out all the time, the kitchen is still open for another hour, there’s this one stag do in the corner that are already three Jaegerbombs and however many pints deep and are gonna be a real problem in the next forty minutes or so, the band is going to be arriving any minute to start setting up, and yeah, yeah, Dane is wound tight. Of course he’s fucking wound tight, on ’til close on a Friday night when he’s down one bartender and Shelley is gonna be late by at least an hour.
“No, no,” he groans when he feels the body behind him in the keg room, hears the latch slot shut. “Steve, Steve, I don’t have fucking time — ”
“Let’s be quick then,” says Steve, and Dane tries to struggle, but Steve is twice his size and stacked with muscle, and Dane can’t help the breathless moan that comes out of him as he’s shoved over one of the big stout kegs.
There’s something liberating about it, about how easily Steve manhandles him and shoves him over, about how it isn’t really about his choice or his consent at all, but is purely about Steve, Steve’s huge body, Steve’s weight on top of him, Steve’s strong hands unbuckling his belt and dragging his trousers down, his fat cock landing ready with a wet slap between Dane’s arse cheeks.
“Fuck,” Dane groans, but he leans over further, puts his head on his forearms and spreads his thighs a little, relaxes into Steve as one of his hands slides up to settle between his shoulders, keeping his head down as he lines his cock up and sinks inside.
It’s not as if he even faces much resistance — his cock is slick and hard and ready, he was probably fucking thinking about this all the time on his way over, and Dane is open too, thrummed with at least a bit of want as soon as he saw the man walk in, and Steve has been looking over for forty minutes, waiting for Dane to move into the backroom or just go back, for him to be aside for any time at all. The locking door is just a bonus — if he’d gone out to the smoking area, Hell, if he’d bent over for long enough behind the bar, Steve would probably have been on him.
“You get so tight when you’re like this,” murmurs Steve, “when you’re busy, when things are heavy and weighing on your fucking mind. I’d say it benefits me, that I enjoy how tight you get, but all I care about is fucking it out of you.”
“How magn — mag — fuck,” groans Dane as Steve starts fucking into him harder, deeper, and Steve laughs.
“Mag? Magnani…? Hm?”
“Fuck you.”
“Generous?”
“Generous, yeah, fuck,” he hisses, and he fumbles to get a hand on his cock as Steve keeps thrusting into him, drives into him hard and deep and in a way that feels like crackling fireworks in his belly, a sort of dull set of bursts that’s just inches away from fucking Heaven. Steve keeps up a rapid pace and he keeps changing his angle, catching over Dane’s g-spot in a way that makes him feel like he’s burning, and it’s good.
“That’s it, baby, that’s it, I’m fucking generous,” purrs Steve. “Gonna come for me, huh? Come on, sweetheart, let me feel it, that’s it, that’s it. That’s my fucking boy.”
It shouldn’t affect him the way it does, Steve crooning in his ear like that, but it does, it does. It ripples through him, makes his whole body thrum, makes him shudder, and when Steve reaches between them and grabs hold of his cock, Dane doesn’t even need him to jerk him off, to strum at it, to do a fucking thing — just the barest touch is like a lightning strike, and suddenly he’s coming, gasping into his arms as Steve keeps jackhammering into him. It passes through him in wave after wave of pleasure as Steve keeps driving into him.
He feels the pulse of Steve’s cock a few minutes later and he’s already floating somewhere, can feel all the tension seeping out of his body, feel himself going boneless and loose on the barrel as Steve grunts against his neck, sighs, falls on top of him and sloppily kisses the back of his neck.
“Disgusting,” says Dane, and Steve laughs, smacking his arse before he pulls out and stands back, zipping up his jeans.
“You want an extra hand on deck?” he asks casually, and Dane’s heart does a strange little flutter. “It might be a little tight on my pecs, but I can wear the same size polo as you.”
“You’re going pretty hard on magnanimity tonight,” says Dane, breathing heavy, before he pushes himself to his feet to get himself put together again.
“Can I stay at yours?”
“Fuck’s sake,” says Dane, but he’s laughing, and when he turns around he catches Steve by the shirtfront and pulls him close, capturing his mouth in a kiss.
“Oh,” moans Steve exaggeratedly against his lips. “Sugar from my sugar?”
“I’m not your sugar,” says Dane. “And I’m not sweet. Grab a polo from my office and tag in.”
Steve makes a kissing sound, pouting out his lips and winking at the same time, and as Dane unlocks the keg room door he can’t help the way he laughs to himself as he goes, stepping back out into the bar.
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