Chapter Four

JERRY PULLED on his jacket in the locker room. Two whole days off. After the breakup with Bill, the fire, and lunch with Mick Cassidy, he was ready to sleep for a week. Did Mick want to be friends or not? Actually, it was probably better if the dude just left him alone. For all his meanness and weird ideas, Mick was one hell of a good-looking guy. Every day he seemed to get leaner, and that pale hair shone in the sun like some god that Rodney would paint. Hell, Rod would love Mick as a model, but that so wasn’t happening. Rod and Mick in the same room? Battle of the Titans all over again.

He closed his locker and headed for the exit.

As he rounded the corner, he hit body to body with the new guy, Straight. “Oof. Sorry.” Might as well get it over with. Jerry stuck out his hand. “We haven’t met. I’m Jerry Wallender.”

Straight stared at him. No smile. No handshake. “Yeah, I know who you are.”

Well, hell. Jerry stepped to the side and started to walk toward the door, but Straight blocked him. “You sure you want to be in fire service?”

Jerry frowned at him. They were about the same size. Straight had a couple of pounds on him, but all in the gut. Still, this was the fire station. “Real sure.” He cut past the guy, walked to the door, and pushed out into the parking lot.

Grab some air, man. He breathed hard a couple of times. Shit, when does it ever end? I worked so hard to get this job. I can’t blow it over an asshole.

The old Beach Boys song he used for a ring tone vibrated in his pocket. He grabbed it. “Yeah.”

“Oh my, darling, are we having an off day?”

He smiled. Good. Just what he needed. “Hi, Rod.”

“You’re having dinner with us at Rick’s, okay? See you at seven?”

Hell, why not? If he stayed home, he’d just think about the asshole he should have hit and the weirdo who took him to lunch. To say nothing of the guy who dumped him.

“You still there?”

“Sorry. Yeah, man, I’d love to. See you then.”

He drove home to change his clothes. He loved the apartment these days, since his friend JJ had fixed it up for him. The place still looked like him—comfortable with lots of sports stuff—but now it didn’t look like the whole sports team actually lived there.

He’d showered at the station, so he changed into some nice jeans and a blue shirt. Rod always liked him in that color. He hadn’t been able to pose much for Rod since he’d taken up firefighting. Maybe he could find a couple of days to hang out at the studio. Now that Bill was gone, he should have lots of free time. He pressed his head against the bedroom wall and bumped it a couple times. How long to squeeze the thoughts of Bill out?

He jogged back to the car and drove down the hill to the parking structure on Glenneyre, found a spot, and walked through the alley to the arcade that led through to Rick’s. A line stretched out the door, as usual. He threaded his way past a wall of humans to the pretty little dark-haired hostess. She smiled, clearly trying not to look harried by the anxious wannabe customers. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m looking for Rod Mansfield. Do you—”

She beamed. “Oh yes, right this way.”

She led him through the narrow aisle between the huge bar and the row of tables toward the booths in back. He saw Rod sitting beside Hunter and waved. Rod smiled and waved back. A couple more feet and—what the hell? There was somebody sitting opposite them on the other side of the booth. A black-haired someone.

Okay, a very pretty someone.

The hostess left him beside the booth. He nodded. “Hi.”

Rodney air-kissed him from a couple feet away. “Hi, darling. This is Andres Garcia. He’s posing for me this week, and I invited him to join us.” His smile was pure innocence, the devil.

Jerry stuck out his hand. “Glad to meet you.”

The guy’s grip was strong and warm. Andres was sitting down but looked like he was probably about five foot ten. He was slim with black hair that he wore short in back and long in front. Best were his wide, very dark eyes. Altogether bitchin’, though not quite my type.

He slid in beside the guy Rod had “just happened” to bring along. Very subtle. The waiter came over, and he ordered a beer. They all got french-fried asparagus, one of Rick’s specialties, to share.

Andres’s thigh pressed against Jerry’s, and he sure wasn’t moving it. Jerry smiled. “So, Andres, what do you do?”

“I’m an accountant.”

“You’re kidding?”

He grinned, and it was way cute. “I get that a lot. Actually, I’m a mean man with profit and loss.”

Rod winked at Jerry. “I figured you had some loss you needed work on.”

The waiter brought his beer and poured it for him. A big swallow was just what the doc ordered. Jerry looked back at Andres. “Are your parents accountants?”

He thickened his accent. “No, ése, my father is a garbage man and my mother raised ten kids. In my neighborhood, you’re lucky if you can count to ten, you know.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

Andres nodded.

“They must be proud of you.”

He went back to his slight Hispanic lilt. “Actually, I’ve got a sister who’s a lawyer, a brother who’s a doctor, some teachers, college students, and not a gangbanger in the bunch. We moved out of that neighborhood and took our folks with us.” He grinned.

Rodney laughed. “Overachievers.”

Hunter sipped some red wine and looked at Jerry. “How’s life at the station?”

Sore subject. He frowned. “You know I love the work. I never get tired of it. But we’ve got a new guy who’s a major asshole. I know you got sick of it, and I get why. It’s gonna be tough not to take this guy out.”

Andres leaned in. “He doesn’t like gays?”

“Yeah. But on a happier note, our number-one resident homophobe seems to be lightening up.”

Rod grinned. “Is the Hitler youth still showing his softer side?”

“Yep. He took me to lunch.”

Hunter’s mouth fell open. “No way.”

“Yep. Paid and everything. Of course, he’s been hanging out with the new guy, so maybe he’s just trying to find some way to get me fired.”

“Be careful of him, Jerry. He’s not very trustworthy.”

“Yeah, I won’t turn my back.”

Andres leaned away and gave Jerry a long once-over. “And such a nice back it is.”

He laughed. Well, okay, then.

After two more beers and a big halibut sandwich, the day began to fade and Andres looked better and better. Finally they walked out on the sidewalk in the cool night air.

Rod smiled. “We drove Andres with us, so how about you take him back to my studio to pick up his car?”

Way subtle. “Sure, I can do that.”

He hugged Rod and Hunter, then turned toward the walkway to the parking structure. Andres fell in beside him. Yep, he was about five ten—three inches shorter than Jerry. Well-built, it looked like. “You go to the gym?”

“Yeah. I don’t get too much exercise in my job.”

Jerry laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. All those numbers must be pretty heavy.”

“Can be. You probably don’t have to work out much, being a firefighter.”

“The opposite. We have weights at the station, and we do some serious running to keep in shape. Our equipment is super heavy.”

Andres glanced over. “It sure is working.”

“Hey, thanks.”

When they got to Jerry’s car, he opened his side and reached in and unlocked the other doors. Andres climbed in the passenger seat. Jerry slid in and reached to start the car. Andres stopped him with a soft hand on his wrist. “You don’t gotta take me back to my car right away, guapo.” He leaned across the console and applied soft lips to Jerry’s.

Okay. He let Andres nudge his lips open and accepted a warm mouthful of tongue. Nice. He hadn’t had sex since Bill left six days ago, and his little man was ready to take over his brain. He should let the cock go at it. Prove he wasn’t a one-man guy.

He slanted his mouth and deepened the kiss. Andres gave a nice moan.

Voices sounded from the entrance to the parking lot. “Hey, Mary, where’d you leave the car?”

Right. Not alone. Some people might not take too well to a couple of guys kissing in a car. He pulled back. “Someone’s coming.” Funny. He wasn’t even that disappointed.

Andres opened his eyes slowly. Man, those irises were black as midnight. He smiled. “Want to take this to your place, guapo?”

Did he? “You know, maybe my friends told you I just broke up with somebody?”

“Yeah, they did. Sorry to hear about it.”

Jerry nodded. “It’s weird, man. I’m kind of off. I think I need to get some shit together for a few more days.”

“I understand, baby. I like a man with feelings.” But he didn’t look happy. The pretty eyes stared at his lap. Well, hell.

“Hey, do you like to dance?”

That brought a smile. “Me? Oh, amigo, I’m a regular Jennifer Lopez.”

“This coming Saturday night is the Firefighter’s Ball. You wanna come with me?”

“You bet. I find I’m crazy about firefighter’s balls.”

MICK WALKED into his one-room apartment and tossed his jacket on the bed. Maybe he could have a beer? He took the few steps into the kitchenette, opened the refrigerator door, and stared in. Three bottles of Bud glistened inside. Oh damn, he wanted one. He grabbed it, let the door slam, twisted off the cap, and took a swig.

His father hated it when he drank anything. Said he had the devil’s addiction in his blood. The old man ought to know. He’d been the falling-down drunk. Once he got saved, he made life miserable for anybody who even wanted a glass of wine, but not nearly as miserable as he made it for anyone who was gay.

Mick shook his head. He’d asked his father once why he hated gays. He’d said that the Lord had revealed to him that homosexuality was a plan of the devil to destroy God’s good earth. But Mick heard his mother say to a friend once that a fag had been the cause of his father’s drinking. That didn’t make much sense to him, but what the hell.

He set down the beer on the counter, pulled off his sweater and jeans, and hung them in the closet. He only had a few outfits. Wanted to take care of them. Tithing all that money to the church didn’t leave him with much, but his father expected it. Mick didn’t begrudge it when it went to help kids who were poor and stuff, but when his money bought guns…. Damn, he hated that.

He grabbed a bathrobe and pulled it on, then took off his briefs, grabbed his beer, and went over to sit in his easy chair. Funny, this little apartment over the garage didn’t cost much, but it had belonged to a fag before he got it. Some interior decorator or something. Hell, Mick was the winner because the place had pretty colored walls. One was this blue-green and the others were a color like wheat. The floors were cool too. All polished and pretty. Gay guys didn’t ruin the earth. They made it kind of nice.

He leaned back and sipped. Jerry’s hair was almost the color of the wheat walls, but brighter. Shiny as hell. It’d been fun talking to Jerry while they ate, but all that stuff Jerry said—wired differently. That didn’t sound like homos were out to wreck things. Still, he’d said he wanted kids. That could be bad.

He sighed. Hard to know who to believe. If he could just forget about Jerry being a fag, it would be nice to have him as a friend. He could use more friends. Durry always wanted to do stuff with Mick, but lately the guy kind of got on his nerves. Always so sure of everything. Hell, Mick didn’t feel sure about anything anymore.

But Jerry was nice. That was for sure.

He slipped his hand under his robe and combed his fingers through his silky pubic hair. He flipped the robe back and watched the process. He’d always kind of liked that his pubes were as blond as his hair.

Then there was the dick. Turned out it was pretty big. He smiled. He knew from the shower at the station. That was supposed to be a good thing. Guys always bragged about how big their things were. He stuck out a finger and flipped it. It gave a little hop.

He sighed. Yeah, he hadn’t done that for a while. Like a month. His dick wanted it. He’d even gotten hard in the locker room when he saw Jerry. So weird. He needed a distraction.

He reached over to the side table and picked up his laptop. It was a used one he’d gotten for a steal. He keyed in the URL. Knew it by heart. The math puzzles popped up. He flipped by the Stomachion and the chessboard. He solved three puzzles in seconds and got halfway through a fourth before his fingers strayed back to his dick. The math problems weren’t working.

Damn. His cock was aching.

Well, hell.

No willpower.

Click.

The warning page came up, and he scrolled right through the choices. The old cock knew what was coming and was starting to get excited, stiffening and bobbing around. Okay. But he had to find the right video.

He clicked through one after another. Big boobs. Damn, who wanted those? Cream pie. Yuck. Big cocks. He liked that one, but no. He needed his favorites. Back door. Bingo.

He clicked. The promo came up: a big black guy’s cock sinking into an asshole. Oh yeah. His own dick pressed against his belly and hopped. He hit Subscribe. They already had his credit card with the phony name and small amount of credit.

Click. That guy was hammering that ass. Oh, look.

He felt around for the lube he kept in the drawer and pulled it out without looking. Man, he didn’t want to miss any of this one. He squirted some in his palm, spilled a little on his abdomen, and grabbed his dick off his belly.

Look at that hole gape open like it wanted that big thing in it. Look at that guy’s balls flying around. He loved it when they shaved. No hair on his balls or around his cock. Should he do that? It looked so great.

He stroked hard, the way he liked. Couldn’t be gentle. The dick didn’t deserve it. It ran him around and made him do bad stuff. Bad stuff like this. Oh shit, it felt so good. What would a cock feel like in his asshole? Would it hurt or feel good? He swiped a finger over the lube he’d spilled, lifted his hips, and shoved a finger into his butthole. Damn!

He pulled it out, swiped some more lube, and stuck two in. Oh shit! Oh shit.

He set the laptop on the table and crawled up to his knees, but he didn’t want to take his fingers out. He grabbed his cock and pumped it while he shoved his other hand in and out of his butt. Oh God, why hadn’t he done this before? Oh yes, oh God. What if that was a cock? What if it was Jerry’s cock? Pushing in.

He rammed harder and harder. Couldn’t stop. Had to.

Frantically, he pumped his hand and rammed his fingers. His hole felt hot and—Holy crap, what was that? Like a million-watt bulb went off in his ass. Holy God. Again. Again. He slid in the fingers just enough and explored. Yes! Amazing! Yes. The big black cock reamed that asshole just like Jerry’s cock rammed his hole. Oh God! Juice spurted from his cock like ropes of white cream—again and again while fire shot through his balls. Jesus, it practically hurt, but so good. He gasped for breath. Could his heart really beat that hard? He let his head fall forward onto the arm of the chair and his fingers pulled out of his ass. Sticky.

It seemed like an hour before his heart slowed back to normal.

Oh God, that sick music. He opened his eyes. The black man had the woman on her back and was pumping in her butt. Her feet waved in the air, flashing some pink plastic heels. That wasn’t sexy. Turn it off!

He looked down. What a mess. Streaks of white goo decorated the arm of his favorite chair. Oh crap, what had he done?

He’d been thinking about Jerry. That was it. Just like his father had said, they lead you into paths of unrighteousness. Jerry. His fault. All his fault.