A sat at the bar at the Hammer Club, enjoying a glass of beer. They knew how to pull draughts here, and the amount of head was just perfect.
It had been weeks since he'd been here. Hell it had been at least that long since he'd last gotten to unwind. They'd been working a fucking hard case -- it was always hardest when kids were involved -- and like everyone else, he'd only been breaking to get some sleep. They'd caught the asshole, though. It was iron-clad, too.
The club was popping, loud and happy, the dance floor full, the tiny little cover band much improved from what he'd been listening to last night. He finished his beer and asked for another. It was the perfect place to unwind.
"Howdy, Cinnamon, honey. Can I get a beer when you get a chance?" The voice was low, slow, and pure southern. Like some weird cowboy movie.
A couldn't help but turn and look.
A long, tall bearded man in a ballcap stood there, in a white button down and a pair of jeans. Well, hello, long tall drink of water.
"Sure, Andy. It'll be a few minutes."
"No worries." Andy draped himself over a barstool, casual and easy.
A looked his fill, from head to toes and back down again. Nice. Very nice. The boots looked ancient, the jeans like well-loved friends. And they showed off the most amazing ass. A's prick perked right on up, suddenly eager to help him with the whole blowing off steam thing.
One pretzel was picked out of the bar snacks, inspected, then eaten, nibbled really.
A puffed himself up; he knew he looked good. Bright blue eyes cut over to him, checked him out, and he got a nod. He smiled in return, nodded back, and shifted over so when he breathed in he could smell the man. Cologne and soap, rich and male and clean. Damn, the man was fine.
He licked his lips.
Andy pinked, looked away, then looked back in a charming flirt. He smiled, let the heat he was beginning to feel show in his eyes. What a charmer.
Cinnamon brought Andy a beer, and it was nice to see that the man tipped well.
A watched as Andy took a long swallow, throat exposed, Adam's apple bobbing. Damn. Damn, that was hot as hell. His prick had gone from interested to wanting, pushing hard at his zipper.
He needed to find out if this fine specimen of a man was single, was available, was interested. He held out his hand. "A Cooper."
"Andy Ballard. Pleased."