Burning Truth Page 2

  His mother had been in the hospital for ten days so far, so the house held a musty, closed-off odor to it. Trent opened all the windows on the main floor and allowed a cross-current of fresh mountain air to sweep out the cobwebs. Angel went to the kitchen, where he grabbed two beers from the fridge and as they took their first sip, the chilled brew refreshed their own tired selves.

  “Long day,” Angel said, dropping to the sofa.

  “Long drive,” Trent added.

  It had been. A week ago they had battling a brush fire that threatened to scar hundreds of acres of protected government forest, and now they were within shouting distance of the snow-topped peaks of the Adirondacks. They had driven for days across the country, stopping only for meals and to rest at night at motels of questionable repute, some nights so tired from being in the car all day they couldn’t even muster up their usual passions. Since meeting, Trent and Angel had been nearly inseparable, both in their chosen profession as firefighters and as lustful lovers who with just one sexy look could render the other weak in the knees and with only one way to satiate the heat they felt.

  In fact, Angel was tossing him one of those come-hither looks now, the tip of the beer bottle at his lips as suggestive as a blow job. Trent looked around, not sure why. Not like his mother was expected home, nor could she get here even if she tried. They had the place to themselves, with Trent right now recalling the promise Angel had made in the parking lot, his cock remembering his touch, his heat. He set down the beer bottle and sat upon Angel’s lap, kissing him hard, digging beneath the cushions to cup the man’s tight ass. Angel rose from the sofa, lifting his lover at the same time, his muscular arms barely straining as he pushed Trent up against the wall. He thrust his crotch into Trent’s, grinding hard against him.

  “You want me?” he asked.

  “Fuck, yeah, always.”

  Angel kissed him back, the scrape of his goatee sending electric waves through Trent’s body. Angel’s hungry tongue slid between his lips, parting them, exploring. Trent felt that heat, felt waves of desire wash over him, and with an uncontrollable urge, he whispered into his ear, “Let me suck you.”

  Angel eased him down, letting Trent drop down to his knees on the plush blue carpet, his eyes level with the bulge inside Angel’s slacks. He leaned in and licked at the material, his lips forming around where the tip was pressing for escape. And escape it did soon enough, as Trent unzipped his pants, sliding them down around dark, hairy legs. He could see his pulsing, thick cock leaking pre-come already.

  “Wow, someone’s horny,” Trent said.

  Angel’s answer took the form of action, as he grabbed hold of his thick shaft and pushed it into Trent’s mouth, so far his thick nest of pubes tickled at Trent’s nose. Trent gagged at how quickly, deeply, the hard cock penetrated him, but he soon adjusted, as he always did, slurping at the shaft, his tongue toying with the leaking tip. He loved how Angel tasted, both his early sweetness and the gooey come he often let slide down Joey’s throat.

  “That’s it, baby, suck my cock,” Angel begged, his breath coming in short waves.

  Trent knew what that meant. He was getting ready to blow.

  Something had Angel completely turned on, more so than usual, and he began to thrust his hips hard at Trent, fucking his face with a building intensity. Trent took each thrust with his usual willingness, digging his nails into the flesh of Angel’s hard ass, an action that only served to fuel Angel’s hips further. Hard, fast thrusts continued their assault until finally Angel cried out and his load shot forth from a tip that grew thick with heat. Trent felt the first shot hit the roof of his mouth, a second, a third, and he drank his lover’s seed down, quenching his desire the way the beer had quenched his thirst.

  As Angel pulled out his spent cock, Trent fell back against the carpet, staring upwards.

  He could see the underside of the shaft, still erect, the skin stretched. His furry balls were tight from the explosion.

  “Wow, that was hot,” Trent said.

  “You made me come so fast,” Angel said.

  Trent looked down, saw the wet stain at the crotch of his jeans. “Yeah, back at ya.”

  Angel smiled, knowing he had that effect on Trent. “So, now what?”

  “Now, we don’t worry about coming, we just indulge.”

  Angel smiled at the idea of what came next. They’d both achieved climax, so the next release might take a bit of time and friction to create. Neither of them minded such dedication, and at the moment time was on their side.

  “Take me in my room,” Trent said.

  “Later,” Angel said, “let’s take advantage of the situation. I want to fuck you so hard in every room of the house you grew up in.”

  Things had changed in White Pine. Never before had Trent had sex in his own house.

  But life moves, it advances, new discoveries are made. He lay on his back, his legs lifted in the air, he newly naked, Angel too, and as his lover hovered above him, he felt that first pierce of that thick hard cock at his hole. Trent stared up at his lover, at his sexy grin, the swath of dark hair that covered his chest, the nipples striving for attention beneath that fur, and he nodded. Just then Angel’s sheathed cock slid inside him, slowly, easily, like a perfect fit, and wasn’t it, hadn’t Trent felt from the first moment Angel had entered him how ideal was their love-making.

  “Oh, Angel…my love, fuck me now.”

  He did, one thrust leading to another, his passion building. Trent grabbed his cock, held its throbbing shaft as Angel pounded his hips hard against him. Flesh slapped against flesh, cries of desire cascaded out of them, filling the room. Angel grunted, once, twice, and he thrust even harder when Trent dug his fingers into the blanket of hair on his chest. Trent rode out waves of fiery flames, reveling in Angel’s delicious furriness, taking each hard thrust of his pulsing cock. He was by far the best, the sexiest, certainly the hairiest, of lovers he’d ever had.

  “Yeah, yeah…harder…oh Angel, fuck me baby…”

  Angel didn’t need direction, he didn’t need encouragement. He went at Trent’s ass with a zeal matched only by Trent’s begging. They dug at each other’s bodies, Trent pulling him in tight and grabbing at his back. It was smooth, muscular, so much he could feel each move of flesh, each rhythmic beat. His heart beat wildly, knowing orgasm was inevitable. He could hear climax in Angel’s breath, too, pent-up desire reaching its natural conclusion, and Trent urged it on, urging him to fuck him with all his might.

  Angel pounded him, shoving his hard cock as deep as he could. Trent cried out.

  And then he felt his cock explode, white hot come shooting out and sticking to the hair of Angel’s taut belly. He milked his cock, letting each drop seep out, all while Angel continued to thrust at him, hard, fast, with an urgency that could not be denied. Finally, Angel’s body went slack and then he thrust once more and the friction that had built up inside him finally gave way. An explosion rocked through him, Trent feeling every expanse of the cock’s tip, every shot of come as it splattered within him. Angel pumped, and pumped again, draining himself into Trent, and at last his body grew quiet, the only sound in the room Angel’s struggle for breath.

  At last he pulled out and his body fell against the carpet.

  Trent slid in next to him, his hands getting lost in the dark thicket on his chest. He would never tire of the lushness of dense fur, and lucky for him he wouldn’t even have the chance. His furry Angel was his for life.

  “You haven’t fucked me like that…I don’t know, in a while. It was fantastic.”

  “Something about being back here, I guess. In the place I met the man I love.”

  Trent kissed him, and when he pulled back he saw something in Angel’s eyes. A faraway look that maybe he was regretting having given up his pursuit of the open road. Even if White Pine was where they began their journey, it wasn’t supposed to lead them back here.

  “Something wrong?”

  “I was just wondering,” Angel sai
d.

  Trent propped himself up on his elbow, curious. “About what?”

  “Your mother,” he said.

  “Really, you fuck me so hard my ass is going to be sore for days, and that’s what you’re thinking about?”

  Angel paused, his dark eyes dim in the fading light of day, as though considering whether to give voice to where his mind had already gone. Whether there was light where he’d gone.

  “I was just wondering, with all we talked about with your mother at the hospital, why you didn’t tell her the real reason we’ve come back to White Pine.”

  Chapter Two

  Austin

  A split-second decision was the difference between a good day, a bad day, and potentially, your last day. For blond-haired, five nine Austin Walker, watching through the protective shade of his helmet as the fierce fire raged, uncertainty reigned about whether someone could still be inside the burning structure. His mind raced with possibilities. Should he run inside, or should he assess the situation further and possibly risk losing a life. He was the closest of the firefighters to the abandoned house, his hands wrapped around the cold nozzle of the hose as it shot forth its foamy spray.

  He thought he could hear a man’s scream, feral, trapped, soon to be incinerated to ash.

  Calling over Dicky Tenders, he handed over the hose and let instinct guide him.

  “Austin, where the hell are you going?”

  “Someone’s in there,” he said.

  “No way, no one’s called this dump a home in years.”

  “Still, that doesn’t mean someone’s not trapped in there, a transient…”

  Standing so close to the house as the heat rose and smoke threatened to consume them, made Austin realize he had to act fast or act not at all. He surged forward across the brown lawn toward the main door, its frame a burned, hollowed-out shell, but that made his entry only that much easier. Weighed down by his heavy gear, breathing through an oxygen tank, Austin raced inside the burning house, taking a quick listen and hearing only the crackling of diseased wood. This place had always been a fire trap, located on the outer reaches of the northern edge of White Pine, a dilapidated old place that should have been torn down years ago. The town council had just never gotten around to it, and now here was the result, an intense inferno of flames. What man couldn’t destroy, fire always could.

  Austin figured he had five minutes at best to find his prey.

  It was four-thirty on a Tuesday afternoon in early April when the call had come in. He and Dicky and Chief O’Connell and a few of the newer volunteers had answered it, donning their gear and racing their gleaming fire engine into the mountainous countryside to do battle with their familiar nemesis. When they arrived they realized it was a lost cause, but they needed to contain the fire before the wind could take hold of the dancing flames and whisk them into the surrounding woods. So far the stalwart men of the White Pine Fire Department had done their job by creating a rim of water and foam around the perimeter of the house, keeping the flames at bay. Water continued to douse the creaky house, droplets of which Austin could feel falling on him even from the inside. The hot flames had created holes in the roof that neglect hadn’t already taken care of.

  “Hello, is anyone in here?” he asked.

  His echo was all he heard back.

  Damn, had he been imagining voices when back outside? What had possessed him to rush into the eye of the fire, defying Dicky, not that he was his superior but still Dicky had been at this firefighting business far longer and he was less prone to taking risks. Austin was young, cocky, a foolish sense of bravery not yet tested by the inherent dangers of job. This could be his moment.

  He stole a look upwards and saw a ceiling beam become engulfed with flames, and he stepped back just as it came crashing to the charred floor. He would have wiped his brow had he been able to, but his gloved hand was blocked by his helmet; his face would have to endure the warm trickles of sweat that slid down his cheeks. He thought to turn around and get the hell out, but that’s when he heard that cry again.

  “Help…”

  He had sensed it, that instinctual fear of not doing anything to help someone survive had sent tingling pricks throughout his body. There was someone in here, and obviously whoever it was he was unable to get out. Was the voice that of a man, or woman? His mind tried to rewind so he could hear the plea once again. Turned out he didn’t need to.

  “Help…”

  He spun around, thinking the sound had come from his right. His eyes narrowed, trying to focus through the billowing, black smoke. Stepping over the crushed, crackling beam that had nearly fallen on him, he edged ever closer, the light on his helmet cutting through smoke. Did he see something or were his eyes playing tricks on him? No, his ears hadn’t failed him, why would his other senses chose now to betray him? In the beam he saw a foot…or perhaps a hand. He had seen flesh, he was sure of that. So he moved in closer, crouching low where the smoke wasn’t as thick.

  He found another fallen ceiling beam, alive with orange embers, and that’s when he saw underneath it a long figure trapped, unmoving, but still able to speak. It was a man, and he cried out, perhaps from pain, or maybe just his way to ensure someone found him. Austin approached, removed his mask and fed the man a shot of oxygen. The man had a free hand, and was able to use it to keep the mask secure over his mouth while Austin busied himself with lifting the beam. He moved it, and a wail of pain filled the room.

  “Sorry, I’ll get you out…it may hurt for a second.”

  He grabbed the wood beam again, wrapping his thick hands around it, lifting it off the man with all his strength. Flames flickered at his gloves, but he pushed past the rush of heat at his fingertips, and emitting a loud grunt that reminded him of sexual release, he thrust the beam forward, hearing it crash beside them. Smoke and soot and thick orange flames flared up, nearly forcing Austin backwards. He retained his balance, took hold of the wounded man, and draped him over his shoulder. Fortunately he wasn’t that heavy, his frail frame feeling almost emaciated. Austin looked to his left, to his right, assessing his best way of escape. All around him flames edged ever closer to him, threatening to trap them both.

  “Ah, shit,” he said, coughing as he spoke.

  The man still held the oxygen mask over his face, leaving Austin vulnerable.

  He darted to his left and wound his way back the way he had come. He stepped over a pile of fiery remnants of the house, blinking away sweat that stung his eyes. At last he saw the opening in which he’d come through, and of course its perimeter around the door was ringed with fire. He’d have to make a fast dash for it and run through fire and hope that Dicky still had the hose pointed toward the entrance.

  Just then he heard the crackle of a voice over the radio inside the helmet.

  “Austin, you there?”

  “Yeah,” he said, “coming out. One wounded.”

  “Roger, we’ve got you covered.”

  Again, Austin was faced with that split-second decision, and this time his mind was made up even sooner. He rushed the door, flames licking at him like tendrils eager to wrap him in their deadly embrace, and it was his speed and strength that fueled him those last moments, more adrenaline than fear. At last he emerged into the early evening and felt that first intake of fresh air, sucking it down as he turned the wounded man over to one of the young volunteers and a paramedic who had only just arrived on the hectic scene. Once relieved of his weightless charge, he dropped to the wet ground and felt cool water douse his smoking gear. It felt wonderful, like it was winter again, and he was a young boy making snow angels in the recently fallen drifts.

  As he looked upwards, he saw Chief O’Connell hovering over him. An arm extended.

  Austin accepted it and was pulled up, regaining his stance. He lifted up the shield on his helmet. He expected the chief to ream him a new one for his impulsiveness and defiance, what some might call foolishness.

  “Nice work, Walker, what you did is what sepa
rates the men from the boys.”

  Austin smiled, nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  He noticed the chief was still holding his hand.

  “Let’s just not tell Tucker about this,”

  Tucker was the chief’s son, and he was also the man Austin loved. He also feared life as a fireman, which is why he had not chosen the same path as his father, or to his surprise, the man who shared his bed. Tucker was a sensitive soul, a rocker, a songwriter. Austin agreed with his superior, and the chief then joked that, “Sure, those orders you’ll listen to.”

  The three-alarm fire was at last under control, with no fear of it spreading. When all was said and done, the abandoned house was no more, just a pile of scarred, burnt sticks. They would leave the remains to the country fire investigator, who would tell them if the fire was natural or artificial, whether it had been deliberately set. For now the important part was the victim who had been trapped inside, he taken by ambulance to the White Pine Medical Center. The answers to who he was and what he was doing there could wait.

  The men of the WPFD packed up their gear and with night falling and the acrid smell of smoke lingering over the small village, the firefighters returned to the station house, exhausted, hungry, and for those going off duty like Austin, enjoying a necessary beer over at Sally’s Dive.

  “First one’s on me,” Dicky Tenders said, as they hung their gear back up on the wall.

  Austin had to think that was a first coming from the overweight, perpetually grumpy seasoned vet. Dicky hadn’t always been so accepting of Austin, not of his youthful innocence, not of his strong, compact body, and not of his sexuality either. But in truth, the married-with- children Dicky Tenders had been dealing with the issue of gays inside his fire house for years. Usually he was first with the hose jokes.

  “Thanks, Dicky, see you there. I could use a shower first.”

  “Think I’ll skip that part, don’t need you looking where you shouldn’t.”