Hooked

Anthony Shaw, the fresh-faced hire behind the bar, feels the tug from the moment he locks eyes with Travis Wade. The manager's broad shoulders and easy command pull him in deep, like a lure he can't resist. He pictures Travis dangling at the end of his line—a scorching prize, muscles taut, ready to be reeled close. Shift's end brings the stroke of luck. Travis leans in, breath warm against Anthony's neck, and murmurs the invitation. They slip into the dim back room, door clicking shut. Anthony's hands roam first, tracing the hard lines of Travis's chest, thumbs circling nipples that peak under his touch. Travis groans, low and hungry, shoving Anthony against the wall. Belts unbuckle with urgent clinks; pants drop in a tangle. Anthony drops to his knees, mouth watering at the sight of Travis's thick cock, already straining, veined and flushed. He takes it in, lips stretching wide, tongue swirling the salty tip before sliding down, deep and deliberate. Travis's fingers fist in Anthony's hair, guiding the rhythm—slow pulls, then faster thrusts that hit the back of his throat. Anthony hums around the length, savoring the pulse. Travis hauls him up, spins him roughly, yanks down his briefs. Fingers slick with spit probe Anthony's entrance, stretching him open with teasing circles. Then Travis drives in, bare and relentless, filling him to the hilt in one fierce stroke. Anthony gasps, bracing against the wall as hips snap forward, skin slapping skin. Sweat beads on their bodies; the air thickens with grunts and the wet sounds of connection. Travis's hand wraps around Anthony's aching shaft, stroking in time with his pounding rhythm. Pleasure coils tight, shattering first for Anthony—hot spurts spilling over Travis's grip. Travis follows, burying deep with a shuddering roar, flooding him with warmth. They collapse together, spent and tangled, the night's catch secured.