GENRE: Gay Erotic Romance
LENGTH: 11,500 words
RATING:

Beckett and Doug work together, travel together, live together ... and play very enthusiastically together. They're easily and cheerfully distracted by their desires, wherever they happen to be, whatever they’re officially meant to be doing.

The work week starts normally for the newly promoted Beckett, but that's soon disturbed by his lover's sexual provocation. As each day of the week passes, Doug's behavior, and the slogans on his daily T-shirt, get increasingly outrageous.

With the recipe of Doug’s unruly libido, Beckett’s masochistic tendency to surrender to it, and their shared fascination for sex in risky places -- it’s inevitable their career prospects are soon completely out of control. But measured up against the love they have for each other, the question is ... are they really bothered by that?

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

Beckett groaned and his head went back. He gripped the sides of his chair, the castors squeaking slightly under pressure. “Fuck.”

Doug felt the hiccup of pleasure he always felt when he played with Beckett like this, when he made his guy groan like that. Beckett was gorgeous; Beckett was hot. Beckett was good for him. It’d been a bloody lucky day for him when he was allocated to Fleet Sales: South East England, and Beckett Stone had turned those dark, sexy, startled eyes on him for the first time. Doug didn’t like to sound boastful, but it hadn’t been long before he brought his own special brand of enthusiasm and irreverence into Beckett’s team and -- pretty soon after -- Beckett’s bed.

He continued to lick enthusiastically, his grip alternating between playfulness and greed. He cupped Beckett’s sac in his palm through the cool cotton briefs. He let the little finger of his other hand tug at a stray, sweaty curl escaping over the top of the waistband. He made no other noise except for sucking. In the background, the elevator bell chimed a few times; there was a gurgle from the fresh-brew coffee machine. Over by the copier, a voice laughed, and on the other side of the office, a couple of other employees started to argue aimlessly.

“Now ...” Beckett whispered. He sounded as if he were merely addressing a negative in last month’s promotions budget. But his eyes rolled and his thighs tensed, and Doug understood much more than that.

Chuckling softly, Doug slid his fingertip just that little bit farther, stroking behind Beckett’s balls. Beckett came suddenly, hard, gasping and grabbing at Doug’s hair. Doug tolerated the pain because, hell, that was part of the fun, wasn’t it? Still crouching on the floor, he took Beckett’s weight as his lover slumped onto his shoulder, limbs shaking.

The only sound was their harsh breathing. Slowly, Doug let the softening cock slip gently out of his mouth. He smacked his lips with satisfaction. Propping Beckett back upright in the chair, he got to his feet, shifting the bulge at his groin and tutting with his own frustration. “Ought to visit the men’s room with this. Maybe after we’ve had lunch. For real. You know, with food.” He smoothed down his T-shirt and glanced down at Beckett’s stunned expression. “Okay, so maybe before.” He knew he was smirking, but he couldn’t help it, could he? He was damned proud of himself.

Beckett groaned. His gaze focused slowly back on his desk and PC, where the company logo circled lazily around on the screensaver. Doug smiled fondly. The reflection in the screen showed a very wild-eyed, dishevelled employee. Play-Beckett was always the most delicious thing.

“You should have a proper shirt on. That T-shirt’s still not appropriate for work, you know.” Beckett’s voice sounded very hoarse.

“Huh?” Doug still felt fond, but he had an idea that Work-Beckett was returning to action. “You bought it for me.”

Beckett grinned suddenly in return, a sharp, rare, wicked smile that would surely have shocked his other more respectable and restrained colleagues. “I remember.”

“We’re still okay for lunch, though, right?”

Play-Beckett was still smiling. He tapped the screen back on, revealing his e-mail application. Doug saw the way his shoulders tensed again. Something wasn’t ... quite right.

Work-Beckett frowned. “Did you shut down my draft e-mail to the Sales Director? I was replying to the agenda for the team briefing. The one I’m due at ...” He glanced at his watch. “Now.”

Doug shrugged. He felt flushed, and he wasn’t sure it was from sexual excitement. “Of course I didn’t.” Fuss about nothing. He took a step backward.

Beckett was peering at the screen. “I didn’t type this part.” He looked pale, as if something had suddenly disagreed with him. Quite strongly. Doug bit his lip. He’d only accidentally brushed the keyboard, going down on Beckett so swiftly. Anything he’d typed wouldn’t have been proper script. It wouldn’t have been anything legible, let alone anything obscene.

Would it?