Chasing Fire

Chasing Fire**_

Chasing Fire

By jfinn

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You know the drill, this is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is strictly coincidental. It is a story featuring sex between consenting adult males and if you don't like that, are too young or it's illegal for you to read such subject matter then you have been warned. This story is not to be distributed by anyone other than the author without express, written permission. My thanks as always to my friend and webmaster, Nick Archer. For more of my work and a lot of great stories by Nick and the rest of the crew, please visit his site http://archerland.net ©jfinn 2003

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I heard the sirens in the distance, their wail muted by blocks of wood framed houses. Instinctively I listened for the nuances in tone and pitch that would tell me if they were getting closer or would pass by into another part of the city. The sound grew louder, overshadowing the muted TV and its unfunny sitcom. They'd turned off Geary, I decided, down Fillmore, or probably Steiner, or maybe even Scott. I strained to hear more.

It was Steiner. The sound would have been harsher, more grating if the trees and hills of Alta Vista Park weren't between me and the engines to mute the alarms. It was a big fire. By my count, at least three engines had already responded. I kept listening.

This probably makes me sound paranoid. But then, so is everyone around me. The whole city of San Francisco is obsessed with fire. We have good reason. This town is made of wood. Building after building of frame crammed close to each other. Up and down steep hills they jostle for space. When one of them burns, it's not just a question of whether you can save it, but whether you can save any.

Still, I rested my head against the cool pane of glass and told myself I was being ridiculous. There was no reason to be concerned. Even if there were, I couldn't do anything about it. It was stupid to even think about it. I sighed and turned away.

Ben was right. I was bored. I should do what he'd suggested, take a class or something, anything to fill up the hours and take my mind off how lonely I am.

I went into the bedroom, kicking off my shoes as I walked into the room. Oops, not a good idea. I picked them up and stumbled over the dog as he tried to get to them before I did.

"No, way mutt," I muttered to myself as I grabbed the loafers. Patrick growled in frustration at being denied his opportunity to chew.

"Tough!" I snarled back at him.

The damn dog had already destroyed one pair of my boots this week. Sure they were old, but they'd been handmade for god's sake and pretty sexy, even if biker boots aren't really my thing. Bought by an old flame for my birthday in an effort kindle a new fire in our relationship with some kink. Actually he hadn't stopped at footwear, he'd gone the whole nine yards, leather chaps, vest and harness, even a codpiece. Poor Tim, he always did have more money than sense.

But I'd really loved those boots. So had Ben. Especially when I'd worn them, along with the rest of Tim's gifts, for our first Halloween together. I thought Ben's eyes were going to fall out of his head, particularly when I'd turned around and he'd seen my bare ass hanging out. God, I didn't think we'd make it to the bar with the way he couldn't keep his hands off me.

Yeah, that had been one hot outfit. I shrugged and put it out of my mind as one more lost cause. Hell, I didn't even know where that stuff was now. Probably packed away with the rest of the shit I never use anymore.

Did I smell smoke? I went over to the window and opened it and took in a deep breath. Yeah, it was there, the tang of wood burning, the aroma that used to only remind me of when I was a kid and leaves burning on a cool fall day in Michigan. Now that smell made my heart beat faster in fear and...

The sirens stopped. The silence was almost worse than the noise had been, certainly more ominous because that abrupt cutoff of sound could only be heard when the engines were very, very close.

On impulse I slipped on an old pair of Nike's, then grabbed my coat and keys and ran down the stairs. Patrick whined at the top, looking at me with pitiful eyes. Obviously he thought if I was going for an extra walk, the least I could do was include him. It would probably be a good idea, he'd been so bad lately, chewing and whining, nervously pacing for hours.

He whimpered again and looked at me with those big brown eyes. Then he sealed the deal by wagging his tail. I felt suddenly guilty for the way I'd been treating the little guy. He was actually a fairly good dog, just really frustrated. He wasn't like that when Ben was around. The dog had been his bright idea and from the start, he spoiled the little dirt-bag rotten. Patrick had gotten used to having Ben around all day and now he missed him. He wasn't the only one.

Jesus, Adam get a grip! It wasn't like it was Ben's fault he was never home. He couldn't help it if his department was on mandatory overtime. I looked at Patrick who was still begging me to take him along. Seemed like the mutt and I were both going to have to try to be a little more understanding.

Noble thought, but it's easier said than done, especially when you go days without seeing your lover and then only to pass each other in the hall. I try to be the "good wife", I really do. I'm just not always very successful at it. The fight this morning was a prime example. All I'd wanted was a little cuddle, something to see me through the day. Ben had been too busy getting dressed for work. Damn, couldn't he understand how seeing that body of his and not being able to touch it drove me nuts?

Still I shouldn't have thrown such a hissy fit. Jesus, I could be such a drama queen sometimes. In the beginning, that had amused Ben more than anything. How things change. Today when I'd started in, he'd narrowed his eyes and told me to grow up or get out. That hadn't been exactly the reaction I'd been going for.

I should have taken it as a cue to shut the fuck up. Not me though, not too smart for his own good, Adam Barkley. Nah, I just had to get the last word in. Too bad the only words I could think of were, Maybe I should do just that.

Well at least I'd gotten his attention. He looked at me and slowly shook his head. Then he said the words that had echoed in my mind all day long. "If you're that unhappy, then maybe you should."

He'd grabbed his coat and walked quietly down the stairs and out of the flat. I was stunned. Until that moment the thought of actually leaving had never occurred to me. Oh, I'd known we were going through a rough patch, but I hadn't really ever considered the possibility that it might be fatal.

It still hadn't really sunk in. How had we gotten to this point? Where was the moment when being together had stopped being the best thing to happen to either of us? And when had I gotten so bitchy that I was able to push my sweet Ben into thinking I might not be worth it after all?

Because that was the bitter truth, I was a bitch to him. I didn't want to be. Swore to myself, over and over, that the next time I saw him I'd be nicer, be more like the guy he'd first fallen for. Then he'd walk in tired and silent and ten minutes later I'd be jumping on his case trying to get a reaction, any reaction, out of him. Well, I'd finally gotten my wish.

I wasn't going to take all the blame though. There were two people living in this house and I'd have been a lot nicer if Ben had remembered that once in a while. But as the temporary overtime stretched into weeks and then months he grew more distant, more anxious, obsessed with the job even when he was supposed to be taking a break. We were supposed to partners, but I couldn't remember a time in my life where I'd felt more alone.

Damn him, at least he could pretend to feel bad about spending so much time away from me. It wasn't as if I'd turned into a troll or something either. Yeah, I wasn't the twenty-three year old blonde cutie he'd first fallen in love with, but I was still a fairly well put together package. That wasn't ego talking either. I had eyes and I could see a lot of other guys still thought I was hot even if Ben didn't.

The party at Bill and Sid's tonight had been an example of that. I hadn't planned on going, but the fight this morning had unsettled me, made the thought of sitting home, staring at the same four walls - again - very unappealing. So when I finished work I found myself considering my options and then remembering the party. Suddenly I needed to go. At least there I'd feel welcome, desirable.

I'd deliberately dressed in my best and when I showed up alone, there was more than one man who checked me out - and more than one angry glance directed my way from possessive boyfriends. It was a mixed blessing. Yeah, I'd figured I'd be looked at, I just hadn't planned on my own equally compelling urge to look back. I ended up not being sure I was more flattered at the attention or scared shitless about my need to pursue it.

To hell with it. I grabbed for the leash and didn't get it off the hook before the dog was at my side, panting and standing on his hind legs. I snapped the clip on Patrick's collar, opened the door and stepped outside.

I told myself I'd only walk a few blocks, a little exercise was always nice before turning in. It would relax me. And while I was out I could make sure the fire wasn't too close, assure myself there wasn't any real danger to me and mine. A lie, but it made me feel less like a wimp to pretend it wasn't.

It took a while to figure out what direction to go and I made a few wrong turns. I finally figured I was walking in the right direction when a wisp of ash drifted by.

I caught it with my hand and watched it dissolve on the tips of my fingers. I leaned down and sniffed the harsh oily smell. In the background I could hear the shouts and screech of metal a block or too ahead of me, probably just over the next hill. It wouldn't be long now.

Patrick whined and for the first time stopped pulling on the leash. He knew better than to get too close to fire even his master didn't.

I ignored the dog and turned the corner, confronting a tableau from my worst nightmares. The street was blocked off, police tape and barriers everywhere. A crowd of people stood frozen on my side of the tape and I walked over and joined them. Most were just passersby's caught up in the drama, but some showed signs of the déshabillé of a night at home interrupted. I took it all in out of the corners of my eyes.

Right next to me were two young men holding a sleeping toddler. They stood close together, sharing the load of their little girl as they strained to see what was happening. On the other side of them was an old lady with curlers in her hair and wearing a quilted pink silk robe. She had a death grip on a snakeskin purse that was old, but probably cost more than my first car. Her glasses reflected the fire and her lips trembled as she licked them excitedly - it was obvious it wasn't her house burning.

A barefoot man in jeans a tee shirt stood off to the side holding a woman. Neither of them wore coats, though someone had wrapped a blanket around the female's shoulders. The man shifted from foot to foot in an effort to keep from freezing on the cold pavement until he noticed a corner of the blanket dragging on the ground and stood on that. His wife, or maybe lover, seemed oblivious to anything going on around her as she held on to him tightly, gripping his shirt with white knuckled fists, bunching it between tense fingers and crying quietly into the soft folds of material.

I watched as one of the fathers approached them, awkwardly gesturing with his hands how sorry he was. The barefoot man acknowledged him briefly and immediately turned his attention back to his wife. The neighbor melted back into the crowd next to me, joining his partner and child, looking relieved he'd done his duty.

I wanted a better look so I wiggled my way up to the edge of the police tape. Like I'd said, it had taken me a while to find the blaze, but the firemen hadn't wasted those 40 minutes. Their efforts had been successful and they'd contained the flames to just the one three-story Vic. But the cost to the house had been high. Large, ugly slashes of splintered wood surrounded gaping holes in the front of the house. It seemed the firefighters hadn't bothered with doors.

I watched as one of the fireman separated from the others. He swaggered as he moved, and the hose he carried seemed almost weightless in his strong arms. I couldn't see his face, but his movements caught my eye and I felt a rush in my gut as I studied the line of jaw just showing under the hard edge of his helmet. I felt like a freak or some groupie staring like that, but god, he looked so fucking hot.

The guy was big and looked bigger with the gear he wore to protect himself. He was about 6' 2", five inches and about 40 pounds bigger than me. He wasn't fat though - it was all muscle, and it showed in his strong shoulders and legs. He needed every bit of it too judging from the size of the hose he was holding.

I watched as he braced himself then turned back and nodded to his crew on the engine. A second later, water spewed from the nozzle he'd tucked securely under his arm. He leaned back onto his heels and pointed the powerful stream in the direction of the roof of the house next to the fire. It wasn't a moment too soon. A small explosion in the burning house sent a plume of hot ash and tar in that direction.

The crowd spontaneously applauded and the tense mood of the minutes before suddenly shifted and took on the aura of a night at a circus. The parents smiled to each other in relief and the old lady laughed in delight. Only the coatless couple were still sober. The rest of us avoided them.

The fireman continued to ignore everyone, but I still couldn't take my eyes off him as he swayed slowly back and forth directing the thick stream of water over the roofs and wood frames of the houses near the fire. His hips mesmerized me. I couldn't help wondering what would it feel like to have that body hard against me, right now, right here, covering me, thrusting into me, making me slowly lose my mind. I took a step forward before I realized I'd almost walked up to him. Shit, forget about losing my mind in sex, I was already going insane.

Thank god the guy hadn't noticed - the massive pressure of the hose seemed to take all his concentration. From what I could see that made sense. Even through the thick rubber of his jacket you could sense the strain against powerful muscles. Now his legs were spread and braced in the black rubber waders, as jets of water make their way back towards him in streams that swirled down the curb and up over his sturdy ankles.

On and on he sprayed the buildings in front of him, sending up clouds of steam as streams of cold water poured down over the fire and the buildings that had been in danger. A gust of wind blew through the gully of the street and changed the direction of the spray and the crowd jumped back, but too late and along with laughter you could hear bitching at the impromptu shower.

Still the fireman kept on. Although it had been a while since there'd been any flames, he methodically hosed the houses down again and again, checking for hot spots. And all around him, his crew moved, doing mop up, gathering equipment, ignoring their fellow firefighter trusting he'd make sure they hadn't missed anything.

Patrick was barking. I'd been too preoccupied with the eye candy to notice until he started to strain at his leash. I had no idea what his deal was, but I jerked at the leash trying to get him to knock it off. He didn't though and I looked down and saw the dog was trying to escape in the direction of an alley that dissected the middle of the block. I followed the terrier's gaze into the dark shadows and jerked in surprise as hot gold eyes stared back me.

"Oh shit," relieved now that I finally figured out it wasn't a goddamn big rat. "It's a cat."

The still crying woman raised her head. She jerked away from her husband and looked wildly around. "Felix?" She whispered, like she was afraid to hope.

At that moment the god manning the hose noticed too. He called to one of his co-workers who ducked under the spray of the arcing water and walked cautiously into the shadows of the alley. He disappeared for long minutes, but then he was back, his arms full with the writhing body of a wet and very pissed off longhaired yellow cat.

"Felix!" The young woman shouted and ran to the fireman, arms outstretched.

The rescuer was glad to turn over his ungrateful bundle. For his part, the cat wasn't any happier to be held by his owner than by the guy. He hissed and spit and I watched as a long red scratch magically appeared on the woman's arm and bubbled up in beads of dark blood. She didn't even notice. She was crying again.

She walked back towards the crowd, smiling through her tears and once again people applauded. Even I joined in, happy that something had been saved for this sad eyed lady. Her husband, older than the woman by at least ten years, smiled indulgently at his young wife and opened his arms to welcome both she and the spitting cat back into his fold. At that moment I realized that whatever losses they'd had suffered in this fire, they would be manageable.

A flash of jealousy ripped through me. How did that feel? What would it be like to know that all you really needed was what you already held in your arms? There had been a time when I'd thought I'd known the answer to that. I wasn't so sure anymore.

Christ, Ben, I thought when you promised me forever you meant it.

I felt suddenly sick inside as it hit me that maybe Ben's definition of that word translated to a lot less years than mine. Was five years the magic number? Was this really the end? And if it were, would I have the guts to leave first and not wait around for more and more pain until it destroyed even the good memories?

There was a hiss as the cold water found a hot spot and I looked up and into the green eyes of the fireman who stood in front of me. The air had turned cold and I was drenched from the earlier blasts, but I felt the heat of his stare warm me in places that didn't show. I fought back a sudden rush of panic even as my cock grew hard.

The fireman's eyes swept over me once, twice, passing judgment with a lift of one black eyebrow. I felt myself wanting to pull back, but I stood my ground and waited as he took a good long look. I knew what he was seeing and it wasn't pretty.

The ratty sneakers I'd jammed on my feet didn't go with the fine wool slacks I'd never bothered to take off after the party and the down vest was no match for either the pants, or the expensive linen shirt I wore under it. My hair which I'd gelled so carefully for the party was now a soggy, sticky mess that lay in clumps on my scalp and my old glasses had replaced my contacts after I'd gotten home because my eyes had been irritated from all the cigarette smoke.

It didn't seem to matter. The guy's scrutiny of me was as hard and hot as the fire he'd just put out. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity and I found myself licking my lips to hide their trembling. There was no other word for it; I was a mess, both inside and out. My cheeks flamed, I felt exposed even though I tried to tell myself that he couldn't possibly know what he was doing to me, what I was thinking. As if to answer me he suddenly narrowed his eyes, then deliberately turned his back on me.

That was fun, I told myself, and felt the need to hold onto something as my shaking knees and half-hard cock made the act of standing almost impossible. What was worse was the feeling I had that I'd been a goddamn fool for even thinking I could ever interest this guy.

You should go, I told myself. There's no reason to be here and you're just in the way. Patrick seemed to agree. He tugged again on his collar, trying to pull me back up the hill in the direction of home. Yeah, leaving was the smart thing to do. I just wished I were smart.

It felt like hours before the fire was contained, but I still stood there. The pavement was black, filthy streams of water ran down the steep grade carrying ash and debris from the hacked away front of the house. Hoses were everywhere, curled in piles or strewn haphazardly across curbs, soft now, spent but still dribbling out their last drops. Spotlights framed the quietly efficient movements of men and women who knew the danger was past, at least here, at least for now. They stowed their gear and climbed into trucks, silently leaving the scene until only two trucks remained to finish cleanup and assure the crowd their impromptu party was over.

I watched as the object of my dirty thoughts walked up to the barefoot man. He'd stripped off a lot of the rubber protective gear. Now he wore canvas and a heavy jacket, still rough, but not as heavy as the earlier stuff. His helmet was gone and dark, damp curls clung to his forehead curling seductively around his ears and at the back of his neck.

I saw rather than heard his apology as he pointed to the ruined house. The soft gestures he made as he patted the man's shoulder, the way he smiled at the woman still cuddled in her husband's arms were in stark contrast to his cool competence when dealing with the fire or his obvious distaste for me. I watched as he stood with the two for moment more, seemingly unwilling to leave abruptly, but unsure what else he could say or do to make anything better for them. A lifelong habit of good manners kicked in and the husband partially disengaged himself and offered the fireman his hand. They shook awkwardly. It seemed to be end the firefighter needed and he took advantage of the offer to say goodnight.

As he made his escape, the two stared after him. It was clear that it had finally dawned on them that unlike their neighbors, they wouldn't be going home and closing the door on the scene in the street. They stood there looking around awkwardly, unsure of what they needed to do next until the young couple with the baby walked up to them and gently guided them into the house next door to the burnt out ruin that had been their own.

By now, most of the people had drifted away. I knew I should be leaving myself; it had to be very late. I looked down at my wrist automatically, but my watch was on the dresser, six long blocks away. I still wanted to know the time though and I found myself looking around to see if there was anyone who could give it to me. There wasn't.

The fireman, my fireman as I foolishly realized I thought of him, had gone back to his job. He was to my right now, standing in the alley where the cat had hidden, rolling hose that glimmered wetly in the red flashing lights from one of the trucks.

I sucked on my lower lip and studied him some more. God I was pathetic. It didn't matter; I knew what I was going to do even as my brain screamed at me that even I couldn't be that much of a dumb fuck. Oh yes I could. I pulled Patrick over to a house farther up the hill and tied him in a shadowy spot where he couldn't see the action and wouldn't be tempted to bark. Then I took a deep breath, stuck my glasses in my pocket and went back down the hill towards the fireman.

"Do you have the time?" I hoped he didn't notice how badly my voice was shaking.

I'd startled him. He swiveled his head and - when he saw it was me - swore softly. We stared at each other and I started to pray that the San Andreas Fault would pick that moment to hit us with the big one. Yeah, I'd have been happy if the earth had opened up and swallowed me right about then. Finally, he put me out of my misery (or maybe made it worse, I'm not sure) and spoke.

"Yeah, I have the time." But instead of looking at his watch, he moved backwards into the darkness.

"What?" I didn't understand where he was going and I stood there like a moron until he stepped out just far enough and long enough to take my arm and pull me into the shadows with him.

I stumbled as he dragged me and he grabbed me hard and held me up only to suddenly pivot and push me back against the wooden wall of the house. I gasped in surprise, but that was all because his mouth came down to cover mine and the heat - the shock of it - silenced me. The kiss went on and grew, lips moving over lips, demanding things I wasn't sure I could give anymore. A tongue licked along the slit of my mouth and I knew I should pull away, stop this, but it felt so damn good that all I could do was open my mouth and invite it in.

His jacket was open and I slid in between the heavy lapels, wrapping my cold arms around his hot, sweating torso. The need for air finally made me break the kiss and I gasped and laid my head on his broad chest - not because I wanted to, but because it was there and so much and I needed to feel him under me, needed to feel his heart pounding and know that at least for this moment it beat for me.

I breathed in deeply smelling smoke and canvas and overriding it all the dangerously seductive aroma of the man himself. I felt it then, the quick pulsing under my cheek and it made me feel like laughing. Encouraged, I slowly rubbed his sweaty back and pulled his tight tee shirt out of his pants. He groaned, then groaned again when my hands slipped under the coarse material.

"This is wrong," he whispered, but then he pulled me back and tipped my head so his mouth could reach me again. One hand encircled my neck, the thumb sliding slowly up and down the taut outline of my throat, while the other hand reached behind my head and roughly tugged at my hair. Oh god.

I felt a thick thigh insinuate itself between my knees and I responded without thought, rubbing myself up and down the length of the rough fabric. Now the hand at my neck slid a few inches down and stopped at the collar of my vest. One sharp tug and the snaps gave way. A second later there was a popping sound as buttons separated from shredded fabric. I should have told him to be careful, but all I could do was suck in a breath as calloused fingers moved between the folds of the linen to brush against the smooth skin of my chest.

His fingers found a nipple and roughly twisted it. I arched up and hissed at the feeling. I heard more buttons give on the shirt, but by that time I didn't give a shit, couldn't think about anything, only feel and react to what I felt, the utter certainty that regardless of what the man in front of me said, this was right.

"I want you," I whispered in a raw voice that I hadn't used in a long time.

My fireman drew back and laughed softly and it wasn't a funny sound. "Want what?"

The voice was heavy with sarcasm and I felt my cheeks flame as I lowered my eyes in hot shame even as my cock jumped and made a mockery of my modesty. He noticed too and it just made him meaner.

"What's it going to be, sweetheart? You wanna kneel down, for me? That it? Or maybe you'd like to bend over and have me fuck you?"

I froze. Oh god, he was right, this was a bad idea. What the hell had I been thinking? I half turned and tried to slip under his arm to escape, but he'd anticipated that and trapped me with one strong arm on my shoulder, pinning me up against the peeling paint of the building.

"No way, baby. Not now. Not until we've finished what we've started." His words were harsh, angry and they scorched me as much as his touch had a moment before.

I didn't want to, but I had to look at him, look deep into his eyes and what I saw terrified me. So much anger, cold green fire that burned deep into my brain, and behind that was the something more dangerous, something that made the blood rush to my cock and bring out something in me I'd thought was long dead.

I couldn't face it, couldn't stand up to what it might mean and the consequences it could carry. I tried to back off, but again, it was too late. He held me fast in a crushing hold and I gasped once before the feel of the his lips and the rough wetness of his tongue erased all thought, but the incredible emptiness I knew I couldn't fill with anything else but the man standing in front of me.

"It's fucking you want, isn't it?" The fireman whispered. "Go ahead say it, I know you want to."

"Ungh!" I groaned as I felt his heavy cock grind into my hip.

"Say it, goddamn you! You know it's the truth, just say it."

I couldn't fight him anymore and sagged in his arms. "Fuck me," I murmured no longer caring how admitting my need made me feel. "Just shut up and fuck me."

He laughed in bitter triumph and stepped back. I almost fell without his support. His coat slid off his shoulders to the ground and there was the rip of his zipper being lowered. I thought he'd keep going, but instead he stopped as if waiting for something. I finally figured out what he wanted and reached up and took over sliding his suspenders off his shoulders. The pants sagged around his knees. It should have been comical, but I didn't feel like laughing.

There were jeans underneath the canvas pants and I reached out and unbuttoned them. I tried to push them down, but he grabbed my hands and held them still. When I looked up as him puzzled he just shook his head. I dropped my hands then and watched as he reached for himself and pulled out his cock from where it had gotten hard and trapped under the band of his plain white cotton briefs.

I looked at the dripping pole in front of me, and something inside me melted. I started to slide down the wall to my knees, but he caught me under my arms and pulled me up.

"No," he said simply.

Instead he leaned over and took my belt and slid it slowly out of its loops. I couldn't watch, couldn't look at him at all and turned my head towards the darkest part of the alley. I felt his hand ease itself beneath the waistband of my pants and slip down to tease the flesh under the material. There was sound of a zipper and cool air brushed against my skin as my cock sprang free. A quick shove at my hips and my pants were around my ankles.

"No underwear," the remark was again sarcastic, biting with a travesty of humor overlying it all. "Convenient."

I flinched, but said nothing.

"Turn around." It was an order not a request and I was too committed anyway to protest anymore. I twisted awkwardly and braced myself with my hands against the grimy wall.

Hot breath on my neck made me shiver and then I felt more than heard the whisper in my ear.

"Spread 'em."

Slowly I moved my legs apart. The material at my feet stopped me and I had to back up and slip off a sneaker to free my foot. Finally I was in position. I heard harsh breathing at my back then a hand slid down and found my ass. His touch made me whimper though I tried to hold it back. The hand stopped and reached up and around my head to stoke my lips.

"Suck my fingers."

I opened my mouth and pulled in the thick digits. I knew there wasn't going to be any other lube than this and I soaked them as much for self-preservation as for the feel of the hot flesh in my mouth. A minute was all I had though and then the fingers left only to find another opening in my body.

"Oh God," I moaned.

"He can't help you now," the man in back of me laughed harshly. "Bend over."

I didn't even hesitate. I wanted this now. Wanted it as much as I'd ever wanted anything and there was nothing on earth that was going to stop me from getting it. I moved my hands down on the wall until I could bend over enough to get my ass in the air. Now, along with the fingers stretching me, there was a cock in my crack and I cried out softly at the feel of its pulsing heat. So good. Oh god, so perfect!

Foreplay was something neither of us was interested in and so in less than a minute I found myself shuddering as his fingers left only to be replaced by his slick pole at my entrance. I willed myself to relax and breathe as it slid in, in one slow, heart-stopping thrust.

It hurt. I groaned and tried to fight the spasms in my ass and belly as they tried to accommodate the log now jammed in my chute. My struggle wasn't lost to the fireman though. He may have shoved in hard, filling me with every inch he had, but then he held me tightly, not moving, waiting for me to stretch enough to take the punishment he was about to give me. Even when I finally relaxed he didn't move. It seemed to me that hours went by as I stayed uneasily pinned on that big cock and I was begging and trying to squeeze his huge rod with my hole before my partner finally spoke.

"Fuck, don't move damn you!"

I heard the strain in that deep voice, felt the tremble in the muscular chest that hovered just about my back and I realized he was struggling for control. As much as I wanted him to move, I also wanted him to last and so I forced myself to stay still until I heard a whoosh of breath escape his mouth. He stirred his hips then and I bit softly into the flesh of his shoulder to stifle the scream of relief that wanted to escape from me.

"Christ, you feel tight," he hissed and then he proceeded to open me up, making me feel like it was the first time again.

There was no build up. One hard stroke followed another. I banged against the wall on each inward jab and the grunts I tried desperately to stifle escaped anyway. Over and over he filled me, making me moan, cry out, pant for lost breath. I felt the buildup of release and arched my back to try and hurry it along. Instead it seemed to hang just as I was hanging on to the wall. I twisted my head and begged him to fuck me harder and when I got too loud, he leaned over and shut me up with his mouth. All the while he never faltered, never broke the pounding rhythm, never stopped fucking me.

Dry-eyed I shook as every cell in my body screamed for release. My knees were giving out and I abandoned the comfort of his lips and braced myself with my face against the rough wood hoping that would help hold me up. I promised myself that one more thrust, one more minute would be all it would take, but on and on it went, hard and wild sex. My cheek and hands were raw from scraping against the wall; my body shook from the strain of holding me in place for the cock that had become the focus of my world, the center of my universe.

And still I couldn't come.

Something changed. He was slowing down, gentling his thrusts, turning the sex into something I wasn't sure I recognized anymore, wasn't even sure I wanted. It began so gradually I didn't even realize it was happening until I felt gentle kisses down the hot skin of my neck. It was then that I knew what he was doing.

No, I wanted to scream, don't do this. Goddamn you, don't make love to me.

I could only sob harder though as raw passion was replaced by tenderness, grunts by sweet kisses and soft hands. I felt one of those hands slid down and work it's way to the front of my belly and sought out my oh so neglected cock. I found myself struggling against him trying somehow to stop his thoughtfulness.

But still he continued to love me - gentle and sweet, enveloping me in tenderness. Drowning me in the emotions that I'd been half afraid, half hopeful were gone from my life forever. Now I found myself opening again. Not just my legs this time, but my heart. It hurt more than any rough fuck ever could. I cried out and my lover pulled me to him as he licked my neck and delicately nipped at my earlobes.

"It's okay darlin'," he murmured as a strong arm wrapped around my chest. "I've got you. Hold onto me and I won't let you fall." And then his hand found its target.

He stoked my cock once, twice and the third time I froze as the world exploded, red shards of light danced under closed eyelids as my body writhed in the heat and the blasts that signaled my climax. Dimly I heard a cry as my lover too followed me over the abyss. He pulled me in hard as his hips twitched with the power of his discharge. Then there was nothing.

He collapsed on my back and I thought I'd fall until he moved one big hand over mine and held us both in position. We stayed that way as our gasps for air slowed and syncopated. When he finally, reluctantly, moved back I muttered a small protest as his cock slipped out of me. But he didn't walk away, didn't leave me as I expected. Instead he turned me to him, and my head once again rested on to his chest, but oh god there was a difference. He pulled me to him tightly, whispering gentle words and lightly stroking my back. I tried to remember when the last time was I felt so content.

But it didn't change what this was, not really. A fuck in an alley, nothing more. The tears that had stopped threatened to start again. Suddenly I realized what a terrible mistake coming here tonight had been. Not the sex, even though I wasn't proud of the way I'd made it happen. I'd had my share of mindless sex and I could deal with that. It was the unexpected caring, the feeling that life could actually be good that had ripped into my soul.

I didn't want to believe in possibilities anymore. They were too dangerous not because they could happen, because they never seemed to last. Yes, this man had made me feel more in the last ten minutes than I'd felt in whole preceding year, but what if this was it?

What if ten minutes was the end and not a new beginning? If nothing changed and tomorrow my world went back to the shades of gray I'd grown so used to lately? And if it did - as I figured it probably would - did that mean that this moment would still be there? Forever trapped in my memory, haunting me for the rest of my life, letting me know that there was something missing no matter how full my life might seem? It seemed was so goddamned unfair.

Take what you can get. You'll have plenty of time for regrets, maybe the rest of your life.

The thought made me shudder and I squeezed the man in front of me. He squeezed back in response, seemingly no more eager to let go than I was. I was glad. If this was all there was, then I selfishly wanted it to last as long as possible.

So there we stayed until a voice at the entrance to the alley brought us back to reality. "Mitchell," the man yelled and the fireman froze like stone in my arms. "Hey, you," at first I thought he'd seen us but then I realized the guy had his back to us and must have been talking to someone else. "Any a you guys seen Mitchell?"

There was a general chorus of noes and the gruff voice continued, "For fuck's sake where is that guy? Jesus Christ, MITCHELL!!" He yelled.

I felt strong arms push me down behind some garbage cans. Through the dim light I watched as the fireman quickly pulled his clothes back on and trotted out of the alley. He never looked back.

"Here I am, Cap," he called, scooping up the last of the hose as he went.

"Oh good, where the hell ya been, anyway? I been looking for ya for the last fucking twenty minutes."

"Had to pick up this line and it was snagged on something, took me a while to figure it out."

"Okay now?"

The younger man glanced backed at where I hid in the alley. "Yeah, I think so."

"Great, but next time, fer Christ's sake, ask for some help. We're ready to roll here."

A dog barked in the distance. Patrick making his presence known.

"Aw, Jesus," the Captain swore again. "Go find that mutt and shut it up before someone else comes back outta their house and thanks me again. We should a been back at the station and off shift a goddamn hour ago." He moved away from the alley.

"Sure Cap," the younger man said to his back and moved off to find the now frantically barking dog.

I got up and pulled my pants up over my legs and peered into the darkness until I found my missing shoe. I ran my fingers through my tangled hair and smoothed it down into a lumpy mess. I couldn't do a damn thing about my shirt, but I zipped up the down vest and hoped that covered the worst of it. Another thing I couldn't help was the oozing feel of spunk sloshing around between my legs and dripping down onto my thighs. That wasn't going to make the walk home easy, but for some reason I didn't give a rat's ass.

I edged along the wall of the alley, on the lookout for anybody who might be watching, but there wasn't anyone. I slipped out onto the deserted pavement and walked quickly up the hill towards Patrick and the man who was now hunkered down over him.

"Hey buddy, you like that don't you. Yeah, I know you do." I heard him say as he approached. "You better behave there sport, no barking or my boss is going to get really pissed. I know, I know, your Pops deserted you, but he'll be back soon."

"He's back now," I said, though Patrick didn't exactly seem all that glad to see me.

The fireman stood abruptly and turned to me. "You okay?"

I nodded, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"Look," he hesitated and seemed to be struggling with something. "I was out of line back there, I should never have pushed it. But you gotta understand, you threw me for a loop. All day I've..." He shook his head and started over. "When I saw you standing there, I don't know, something just grabbed me." He shrugged

I hugged myself and stared at the ground. "Don't apologize, I understand." I swallowed hard at the next admission "And you were right, I did want it."

"Still, I'm sorry. I was a little, uh, intense. " He grinned sheepishly then looked around to see if there was anyone watching. When he was satisfied there wasn't, he stepped forward and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. Then he handed me Patrick's leash even as the terrier tried to jump up into his arms. "You better take this."

"Thanks."

I would have turned and walked away then, but he stopped me with a gentle hand on my arm. "You aren't walking are you?"

"It's not that far."

"Sure, but it's late and I heard there've been some muggings around here in the last couple of weeks."

"I have the dog."

We both looked at the little Irish Terrier who maybe weighed 25 pounds on a good day. Our eyes met and for the first time that night we shared a smile.

"Yeah well, walk fast." He smiled again, then turned and started to walk down the hill. Halfway down he turned and looked back, laughing and skipping backward awkwardly.

Suddenly I knew it was all right. The realization made me giddy and I cocked my head and winked back at him.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" He called out to me.

I laughed and started to leave, but didn't get very far. Apparently my brazen lover wasn't through with bossing me around yet.

"Hey Adam, I'll be home in an hour," The yell stopped me and I turned back again. "Order us a pizza, I'm starved. Extra hot peppers."

I nodded yes and watched as Ben ran down the hill and caught the side of the engine just as it started to pull away from the curb. Then I stared after it as it disappeared over the next hill. For the first time in months the sight of the man I loved leaving didn't make me feel like I might never see him again. Whatever our problems, we'd manage to work them out. And if it got bad again, well, there are lots of fires in San Francisco.

I looked down at Patrick.

"Hot peppers my ass. He's already got all the spice in his life that he can handle." The thought made me grin the whole way home.

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Author's note: For those of you who are waiting patiently for an update to my series, The Human Condition, I'd like to apologize for the delay, but promise I am working on it and will have it posted as soon as I'm satisfied with it.

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In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this story. Some of you may find it very familiar if you ever read at Literotica as I've posted a different (m/f) version on that site. I like this one better though. If you have any comments or criticism my email address is writnword@yahoo.com mailto:writnword@yahoo.com. I look forward to hearing from you. Jayne

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