"Hard to believe it's only two weeks away."
Giving Ben Hickman a noncommittal nod, Bret stared out at the sprawling metropolis just beyond--and below--his eleventh-story office window. The merger had been hard-won--lots of compromising, deal-making, budget-setting--but it was worth it. Dynamic Technologies and Tracer Microsystems. When he'd heard that Mark Sanford was putting Tracer Microsystems up for bid, Bret had jumped at the opportunity. Tracer was still small enough to mold, but large enough to hold a decent--and rather impressive--clientele list. One year later, he was the CEO of Tracer-Dynamic, one of New York's newest, and most promising, high-end technology firms.
With the merger came the need for more office space, however. The new building was completed, leaving the last of the inspections to go before the official move could be made. Now here he was: sitting in an office piled high with boxes stacked on more boxes, only the most crucial files on his desk. The only personal item left on his desk was one he would wait until the last minute to pack.
It was a photograph of four men: himself and his boys, as he liked to call them. Friends, lovers, whatever; he honestly wasn't sure what to call them, but after six years with them as a group, he wouldn't give them up for the world. They were why he did this, why he wore the suit and tie, why he hashed out business deals, fraternized with colleagues. They were, simply put, family. His family.
A loud thump jolted Bret out of a comfortable daydream. Turning his chair around, he practically glared at Nathan Parrish. The man seemed a bit tentative about saying a word at that point. Ben stood beside Bret, trying desperately to hold back a bout of laughter.
"Yes, what is it?" Bret asked, attempting to sound a little more genial and failing miserably at it. He really didn't want to be here. His mind was elsewhere, watching the rise and fall of a young man's chest with every nervous breath; hearing the soft, almost inaudible whimper from another.
"Geneva has the last of the inspection reports," Parrish said.
Bret nodded and stood. "Very good. Tell her to leave them on the front desk, will you? I'll take them home and go over them there."
"No happy hour drink, eh?" Ben asked, poking a bony elbow in Bret's ribs.
"No, thanks. I have..." Bret trailed off, fighting the urge to lick his lips at the mere thought of what did wait for him. "I have plenty to drink at home," he said finally. Ben lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Well, suit yourself," Ben said. "But don't say I didn't invite you."
Bret waved him out of the office. "I'll see you all tomorrow morning. Have a good evening." He picked up his briefcase, slipped on his coat, and turned off his office light before closing the door.
"Night, Silvia," he called as he picked up the manila envelope from the receptionist's desk. He heard Silvia say something, but was already halfway out the door--too far away to respond.
It was nearly six before he saw the iron gate of his estate. He pulled up to the keypad and punched in the security code, then waited as the gate slid slowly open. Fall was in full swing in New York, the ground littered with leaves. Red, gold, orange, yellow, and brown; some of his favorite colors. They reminded him of his boys: red like Danny's hair; the same shade of gold that sparkled in Nicky's hazel eyes; Johnathon's light brown, smooth-as-silk skin. Bret shivered as he parked the car in the half-circle drive in front of the mansion. His boys were inside, waiting for him.
Within seconds of the front door closing, Bret was pinned against it, three sets of hands, three mouths, all driving him beyond reason as they welcomed him home. This was why he did the CEO thing. His coat and briefcase and the manila envelope dropped to the gray marble floor as he pulled Danny into a deep kiss.
Danny, a fiery redhead if he ever saw one. Bret swore the man lived off of cinnamon candies. Danny's kiss was sweet and sharp, tongue pushing into Bret's mouth, hungry for him.
On his left, Bret curled an arm around Johnathon's waist, moaning into Danny's mouth as Johnathon's teeth grazed his throat, nipping and pulling. Lord, Bret was surprised he could even stand. Johnathon was hard against him, cock digging into Bret's hip, Johnathon gasping and rocking against him.
And then there was Nicky; cool, calm, collected Nicky. Those warm golden eyes had been Bret's undoing the first time they met six years ago. Nicky loved to stroke and tease, to lick and suck on every bit of exposed flesh he could find. His left hand drifted over Bret's pants, rubbing at the quickly-hardening cock beneath the cotton. A tongue flicked over Bret's ear and he groaned, body trapped deliciously between three gorgeous, unique men.
When Danny finally let him up for air, Bret let his head fall back against the door, chuckling softly. "I would ask if you boys have eaten yet, but I have the distinct feeling that I am the main course."
Nicky's breath was hot in his ear, tongue tracing the curve lightly. "I think you already are," Nicky whispered.
Bret started to say something, but his words caught in his throat as cinnamon-tinted lips slid over the head of his cock. "Oh, God." When the Hell had Danny done that? Bret couldn't remember Danny unfastening his pants, but one sideways look at Nicky told him Danny had help.
Nicky licked Bret's lips, a low purr rumbling in that beautiful, golden chest. Johnathon's kisses to the other side of his neck were growing more insistent, hungrier. Slipping his left hand through Nicky's auburn hair, Bret tugged him into a kiss just as Johnathon's teeth pierced his throat. Bret groaned and shuddered, hips pushing his cock into the hot velvet of Danny's mouth as Johnathon drank deeply. Nicky purred on his lips, tongue teasing Bret's with soft strokes. A hand cupped his balls and Bret's hips rocked forward again, Danny swallowing him whole.
Nicky held the back of Bret's head tight as Johnathon's moans slid through Bret's body, from his neck to his cock. It was enough to send both him and Johnathon over the edge, their gasps and groans echoing in the foyer as Danny swallowed every drop Bret could give him. Wet heat seeped into the side of Bret's pants as Johnathon licked the wounds closed. Nicky was the last to come and Danny's chuckle was sweet and playful as he caught every drop on his tongue like it was the elixir of life itself. Nicky moaned softly into Bret's mouth, body lax against him.
"And what about you, lovely?" Bret asked, turning his head to see Danny standing again, biting at his bottom lip, hand stroking a long cock. Bret reached out and grasped Danny's shaft, pulling him close.
Danny's eyes were blazing, deep red fires flickering as he came, crying out as Bret milked every drop out of him. The shimmering, pale red substance poured over Bret's fist, Danny's beautiful body shaking until he collapsed to his knees. Bret brought his hand to his lips and licked it clean. Cinnamon.
