Date: Sun, 21 Sep 2003 09:55:01 -0700
From: Derek Weiser <mercutio3000@comcast.net>
Subject: Fire

My name is Sam.  I'm a firefighter.  As the city was in the grips of an
arsonist, I found my destiny.  I wasn't looking for it, but I don't think
anyone ever is.  I knew I was gay, really understood what it meant, when I
was thirteen.  I remember looking through the big holiday catalogs when I
was younger than that, looking for toys and finding the men's underwear
section and staring, enjoying what I saw.  I didn't know what it was
though.  But when I was thirteen, it all changed.  I was with a friend; we
were skinny dipping in the lake.  We both came out of the water, both hard.
Jake was amazed with me.  I had developed early, Jake was still in little
boy mode and he had no pubic hair and was small, short and thin.  He
reached out and touched me, gripping and stroking over my hardness.  I
hadn't jerked off before.  I had just had my first wet dream a few days
ago.  But his motions amazed me.  Within seconds I found myself clench and
spurt.  I shot all over Jake's hand.  He kept touching it, painting it on
his hand.  He kept asking how it felt.  I was shaking, but decided to show
him.  I took him in my hand and returned the favor.

Within seconds he was shaking in my arms, but nothing came out.  The rest
of that summer, we learned each other.  Eventually, he started maturing and
I took his first shot in my mouth.  We spent the summer kissing and loving
each other.  But the following year, during Labor Day weekend, Jake was
killed in a boating accident.  He was gone and I spent the rest of my time
alone.  No one wanted to play like Jake did.  I graduated from high school
and entered college, while there I fucked for the first time.  He was a
slut, but I was horny.  I used a condom and fucked him rough.  He was loose
and he had greased himself up before I got there.  From that point forward,
I chose to have discreet encounters.  I didn't kiss and I never bottomed or
forgot a condom.  While in college, I became a volunteer in the fire
department.  When I graduated, I joined the force full time.  I moved up
the ranks, being known as fearless.  I did my job and enjoyed it.

Unfortunately, I wasn't out to my coworkers.  These men, and a few women,
are your family.  You must trust them with your life and accept that they
trust you with theirs.  But I couldn't tell them, I wasn't ashamed, but I
kept it a secret that I was gay.  If I had been out before I started work,
maybe I would have been open to them.  But I don't know.  I stood in the
showers with them and I noticed them, but they were my coworkers, not items
of desire.  I had a few personal rules about whom I sleep with: no one at
work, and no wedding rings.  I never understood how anyone could be both
gay and married.  Wedding vows are sacred, even if I will never get to say
them.  Only one of my coworkers did I look at twice.  His name was Bill.
He was thirty-three and married.  He and his wife had seven kids.  He was
handsome, very quiet, and one of the hardest workers I have ever met.  He
was a friend and my mentor.  I loved him like a brother and would gladly
lay down my life for him.  But what made me look at him was his manner with
his wife.  Whenever the two of them were together, it was as if everything
else faded.  They knew where the other was in a room.  There was always a
gentle touch or kiss.  They looked in each other's eyes and you wanted to
look away because it felt like you were intruding on something very
personal and intimate.  When I would see him, I knew he never, ever cheated
on her.  A few of the other guys were like that, content and happy with
their wives.

I wasn't open about it, but I do get out from time to time.  My hand did
okay for a few weeks, a couple of months.  But sometimes I needed to be
with someone every once in a while.  So I would head out to the lone gay
bar in town.  I would hang out for a bit and then make a move.  I never
forget a face and I never went home with the same guy twice.  Once at their
place, I would go at it all night if I wanted, but I would leave before
dawn.  One of the arsonist's first targets was the bar I hung out at.  So
after a few weeks, I ended up at the bar that most of the firefighters hang
out at.  It was called 'O' Tooles' and was started by a firefighter forced
to retire due to burns and injuries.  He left it to his nephew when he
died.  Unfortunately, the nephew died a few years ago, leaving it to
someone who no one ever saw.  I do go there for parties and celebrations
with the crew, but that night, all I wanted was a few drinks.

While sitting there, drinking quietly at the bar, I saw him.  He was
tending bar away from me, but there was something about him.  I didn't
think it was his looks, maybe the way he carried himself, but I could tell
he was attracted to me.  We did the silent flirting that two people tend to
do.  I watched him pour drinks, but his eyes were seldom away from mine.  I
sat there and cataloged him.  He was about five-eleven and had black hair.
His dark eyes and luscious, full lips were always smiling.  His hair was
short, wavy and a little spiky.  He was beautiful.  His olive skin hinted
at ancestors kissed by the Mediterranean sun.  I kept thinking more and
more erotic thoughts about him.  I decided to step up the seduction and
polished off my drink and signaled for another.  While fixing it, he talked
to me.  Turns out his name's Max.  He owns the bar, had for the past few
years, but didn't work there until recently.  He was a chef and usually
worked in the kitchen but was covering for the regular bartender.  We
chatted and talked, shared a few coy laughs.  We decided to head out to his
place.

I drove, following Max.  We ended up at an apartment complex.  It was five
stories, and had twenty units to it, four per floor.  Max was on four, at
the end.  Once inside, Max became nervous.  Not enough to ask me to leave,
but enough that I slowed things down.  He fixed us something to eat.  It
was a mixture of bacon and cheese on top of crackers.  It was hot and spicy
and tasted delicious.  He was an amazing cook obviously.  I didn't want to
hear the small talk; I just wanted a fuck.  But, I could pull back and make
nice.  I found out Max and his former partner took over the bar from his
uncle.  Max worked in a restaurant downtown that I had heard of, but never
went to.  When Max' partner, John, died in a car accident, Max inherited
the bar.  He didn't go near it for the first couple of years after he died,
but he decided to go for it.  I admired the courage to give up a
well-liked, good paying job and devote yourself to someone else's dream.  I
told him so and he smiled, relaxed like he hadn't been able to before.  Now
was the time, he was ready.

I moved toward him, like I was scenting him, ready to mate.  I skimmed the
backs of my fingers along his cheek.  I skimmed them down to the buttons of
his shirt.  I started undoing them.  As each button was opened, bronze skin
and a light sprinkling of silky, black hair was revealed.  I felt warm skin
and rippling muscle as I moved lower and lower.  I felt the ridges of his
stomach and how they trembled below my hand.  Max was breathing heavily,
panting.  His eyes were glassy.  I slipped his shirt off him, enjoying the
sight of his well-shaped torso.  He was nicely defined and his chest hair
thinned to a silky, thin trail down to his waistband.  I moved down to his
feet and slipped off his shoes and pulled off his socks.  His feet were
strong, slightly sprinkled with more dark hair, and warm.  I ran my hand up
his legs; they were strong and sturdy.  I enjoyed their shape and strength.
I undid his belt and the top button of his jeans.  I undid the snaps of his
fly and pulled them away from him.  I skimmed the heavy denim off his legs
so he was sitting before me in tight, white briefs.  They were tented and
such a contrast to his dark skin and darker hair.  I slid them down and off
and admired his erection, which was long, thick and straight.  He was
dripping and it was an angry, aroused red more so than just a little
petting would indicate.  I wondered how long it had been for him.

I knelt in front of the couch and leant towards him.  I tasted the salty,
dripping tip, enjoying the flavor.  He arched and moaned.  I took him
slowly into my mouth, swirling my tongue, trying to wring pleasure from
him.  I let the flare of his head snag on my lips, tugging gently, forcing
further moans out of Max.  I pursed hard and added as much suction as I
could before diving for the base, lodging him in my throat.  I felt him
buck his hips, grinding the head into my soft palette.  I liked the slight
tickle of his generous, silky pubic hair against my nose.  I may never kiss
or bottom, but I never leave my partner unsatisfied.  I kept a brisk pace
on him, moving him in and out of my throat expertly.  My tongue
complimented my mouth and I had him in warm, wet ecstasy.  He reached out
and ran his fingers through my hair.  The gesture was tender and warm.  It
made me feel uncomfortable.  This was just sex, it wasn't supposed to be
romantic.  So to keep him off-kilter, I sped up on him.  I felt him
thicken, his testicles raised and his breath came in harsh pants.  The end
was near.  With one final, deep plunge, I felt him release.  His first
spurt was lost down my throat, but I caught and savored the rest.  I kept
it in my mouth, feeling his thick essence and tasting his sweetness.  I
pulled off Max and looked at him.  He had a silly grin and a vacant, sated
look in his eyes.  I flipped him over the arm of the couch and quickly
stripped.  I grabbed a condom and sheathed myself.  I knelt between his
legs on the couch and lowered so I could let his cum lubricate the next
step.  I spit it into his crack and worked it into him with a couple of
fingers.  He was tight and clasped me with a great rhythm.  I couldn't wait
to be inside him.

I grasped his shoulders and pushed against him slightly.  He parted for me
and I slid into a velvet fist.  His sheath clung to me, begging me to go
deeper.  I started to move slowly, amazed at how easily Max was taking my
length.  He was totally relaxed and moved with me expertly.  His motions
were driving me over the edge.  Each time I would pull out, his inner
muscles pulled me back.  I was building quickly.  I had him pinned to the
couch, arching into him with each thrust.  Both of Max' hands were bracing
him on the floor.  I kept pushing, feeling my load build.  I had never been
with anyone so completely able to let go and just get into the fuck.  He
didn't cry and whine about my overly endowed size, he just let me move and
met me courageously.  I felt myself thicken, tightening up.  My stomach
muscles clenched, becoming a tough washboard.  My thighs became weak as
water and my back arched involuntarily.  I cried out as I emptied myself
into the condom.  With one final, deep thrust, I felt Max let go, clamping
me as he found his own release.  I was amazed.  I had been with others and
none of them got off without a reach around or they themselves jerking off.
But he was cumming and cumming hard.  His cries were animalistic groans and
I was charmed and humbled that I brought him to this moment.

I slid out of him and sat back on the couch, trying to catch my breath.
Max rolled over and sat beside me, also trying to regain his breath.  After
a couple of minutes, he looked at me.  I don't know why but we both burst
out laughing.  It felt good to laugh with someone.  It also felt good
sitting next to someone who was naked and just as sexually drained as you
are.  I noticed the differences between us.  I am about six-three.  Where
he has dark hair, mine is golden.  His chest is lightly, sparsely covered;
mine is thick, almost too thick to run your fingers through.  It is springy
and soft and covers me from collarbone to waist.  It is only thin after my
abdominal muscles end.  I have a patch over my ass but that is also very
hairy, as are my legs and arms to about mid-biceps.  The contrast was
different and I liked it, a lot.  Which is probably why I started to feel
uncomfortable and started getting dressed.  Max looked a little confused
then some sort of wall came up as he walked me to the door.  I had never
been at a loss for something to say; usually some banality or false
promise.  But I couldn't do that to Max.  There was something different
about him.  I just didn't want to analyze it.  I wanted out, where I
wouldn't feel this flighty need to run.  I turned from him and left,
knowing I had probably hurt him.

Try as I might, sleep eluded me that night.  I kept thinking about how
different Max was from the previous, nameless guys I had been with.  He
reminded me of Jake.  Not in his appearance, but in my reaction to him.
Normally a good fuck and I was fine.  I hardly thought of it once I was
home, other than to acknowledge that I was sated.  But I couldn't stop
thinking of the physical perfection that we had shared.  I finally drifted
off about an hour before dawn and awoke to sweaty sheets and an erection so
hard that it hurt.  I took a long cold shower and finally jerked off to get
it to go away, all the while thinking of the previous night.

I found myself thinking a lot about Max over the next couple of days.  It
got to the point that two nights after our initial encounter had me back in
that bar.  I told myself it was for a drink, but the moment I saw him
behind the bar I knew I was full of shit.  I wanted another round.  From
the frosty look I got, I knew it was going to be an uphill battle.  But it
was too good for me to give in so easily.  I sat down and ordered a drink,
forcing Max to come over and deliver it to me.  He did so, but rather than
anger, he was smiling at me.  He told me he was glad to see me.  Now I am
totally confused.  I was all set to appease his hurt, and he didn't need
it.  I asked him if he wanted to leave with me.  He nodded and I polished
off my drink then drove to his place.  He showed up about ten minutes
later.

He wasn't nervous this time.  We went straight to his bedroom and stripped.
He demonstrated his oral talent on me.  I was writhing in ecstasy.  He was
magnificent.  I didn't want to cum so soon.  I pulled him away, his mouth
kept moving as he moved off me.  I almost came knowing he was that into me.
I grabbed the condom from my wallet and covered myself.  I had Max straddle
me and I let him ride.  He moved expertly.  Each motion had both of us
moaning.  This time, I could watch passion flow over his face.  Each
movement had him in pleasure's grip as well.  I pulled him forward, so he
had to brace his body with his arms.  I liked the bunching and cording of
his muscles as he supported his fast undulations.  I reached forward and
took his nipple in my mouth as I gripped his hips.  I didn't try to slow
him, he had set too good a pace, but I wanted a connection to him, other
than cock to ass.  I suckled his nipple, biting then laving the tight nub.
He cried out harshly to my ministrations.  I liked feeling his smooth, warm
skin below my mouth and hands.  I felt him thicken where he lay against my
hairy belly.  I was shocked, but it felt like he was going to shoot.  I
felt him clamp me and cry out as the first spurt hit my neck.  Each shot
got shorter and shorter on my body, but it was hot and thick.  I felt him
clamp me with each rhythmic blast.  His orgasmic waves milked me, took me
by surprise as I tripped over the edge with him.  I gripped his hips and
ground hard into him.  I must have hit it just right, but Max clamped on me
and came again.  His cries were almost painful as he shot another healthy
load across my belly.  It was almost as hot as fire.  He collapsed on top
of me, cum squelching between us, running down my sides.  I wrapped my arms
around him, loving- no liking- the connection.

Max lay with his head on my chest, breathing slowly.  His arms lay loosely
on either side of me.  I was still lodged inside him.  I had never stayed
in place before.  I liked it.  The tenderness and possessiveness I was
feeling were new to me.  But I genuinely liked Max.  We were perfect in bed
together.  He was so open about what he was feeling.  Normally I would be
out the door, but instead I was humbled that he would choose to be so open
with me.  I needed this and like the worthless bastard I am, I took as much
as I could get.  I rolled us over and looked in his eyes.  I asked if he
was up for another go.  He laughed at the innuendo and nodded.  I changed a
used condom for a fresh one and joined up with him again.  Normally I don't
face whom I'm sleeping with.  But I had enjoyed watching him too much not
to.  I rubbed my hairy body over his as I glided in and out of him.  Our
height difference put us at the right level to kiss, but I held back.  This
was new territory, but I couldn't cross that line.  I know Max wanted me to
kiss him, he angled up a few times, but each time, I turned my head so his
kiss hit my neck.  After a couple of tries, he got the hint and just
nuzzled my neck and the hollow of my throat.  I felt bad, but not bad
enough.  I felt him hard and wet between our bellies.  As my time came
closer, I lowered my head to his shoulder and bit hard as I came.  With my
final deep plunge, he tripped over the edge and spurted between us.

I felt bad because I couldn't give him what he wanted.  This guilt was new
to me.  I didn't like it.  But I pushed it aside and grabbed Max and headed
for the shower.  I washed us both up; he was limp like a wet noodle.  I
felt pride that I had brought him to this pleasure.  I pushed him against
the wall and knelt in front of him.  I took him in my mouth.  I moved over
him.  I loved his flavor.  I loved the steely strength as it pushed past my
lips.  I loved knowing I was bringing him pleasure.  I kept up my motions,
bringing Max to the brink and then gently tripping him over the edge,
sucking and nibbling to prolong the experience.  When he was drained, he
slid down the shower wall to face me.  He tried to smile, but he was too
sleepy, too sated.  I chuckled and turned off the water and dried us both.
I weigh about two-forty and it is all muscle.  I easily picked Max up and
carried him to bed.  I covered him up and smiled at him as he nestled into
the sheets, drifting slowly to sleep.  Before I could catch myself, I
leaned down and kissed his forehead.  The tender gesture caused him to
grin.  That alone made the discomfort worth it.  I slipped on my clothes
and left.  On the drive home, I kept reliving that simple kiss and the
following grin.  I felt myself grin as I crawled into my own bed and fell
asleep.

The next four days were hell.  The arsonist was stepping up his attacks.
We were called out to three or four a night.  We all work ten-hour days,
supposedly four on and three off.  But with the latest crisis, we have been
working six days a week.  We were all a little punch drunk and looking
forward to getting off when we got the call.  We had a duplex that had
exploded due to some paint cans and gasoline kept in the garage.  We headed
over to help with clean up.  Then we got word that someone was in the
farthest bedroom.  Bill and I ran in and got to the room.  There was a
three-year-old sitting in her bed, screaming.  I grabbed her and headed
out.  Bill was right behind me.  I made it outside and got her to the
paramedics.  I turned but there was no Bill.  He hadn't come out.  I turned
back to find him.  We did eventually.  The floor in the stairs had given
way.  He had fallen into a closet under them.  His arm was broken and he
had some nasty burns on the same arm.  I shut out my feelings until we had
him at the hospital.  I called his wife myself.  I kept it together, not
letting guilt or remorse affect me until she got there.  They had set his
arm and done what they could for the burns, but they couldn't cast the bone
until the skin healed.  He asked for me first.  I walked into the room,
expecting my best friend, my mentor to hate me.  He took one look at me.

"Wipe that guilty look off your face.  Damn you, it wasn't your fault.
Stop doing this to yourself."

"You should have carried her out.  I am so much heavier than you and our
combined weight weakened the floor."

"Stop that bullshit now.  I will get up and beat you till you understand.
It was not your fault.  Stop blaming yourself.  God knows I don't."

"You don't have to blame me, I blame myself."

I left the hospital, knowing I shouldn't.  But guilt had me in its grips.
I don't know how long I drove around.  I should have been surprised, but I
wasn't when I pulled up in front of Max'.  I knocked on his door.  After a
few minutes, a very sleepy Max opened it.  I didn't say a word, he just
pulled me inside and we sat down on the couch.  I told him everything, all
about Bill, the fire, everything.  He didn't try to tell me it wasn't my
fault.  He just listened, holding my hand.  I know I cried at some point.
All he did was just grip my hand tighter.

"Make me forget Max.  Just for a little while."

He nodded and pulled me into the bedroom where he stripped me.  Then he
pulled me to the shower.  He ran the water extra hot and scrubbed me.  I
didn't even realize that I was still smoky and grimy with soot.  But Max
just cleaned me off.  He did all those things that I just do when I'm in
the shower.  He scrubbed under my nails and washed out my ears.  Like beach
sand, soot and smoke get everywhere.  He cleaned me off and pulled me out
of the shower.  I was there, but my mind was detached somewhere else.  It
was like I was observing the action that I was a part of.  He dried me off
with a big fluffy towel.  He then pulled me into the bedroom and had me lie
on the bed.  He covered me up and scooped up my clothes.  I started to
protest, but he said he would be right back.  He took my clothes and threw
them in the washer.  Then he joined me in bed.

I didn't know what to do.  We had crossed a line somewhere.  I let him lead
me.  He pulled me into his arms and just held me.  He occasionally kissed
my forehead and ran his fingers through my hair.  I wanted to scream that I
didn't deserve such warmth.  But I did need that warmth, that compassion.
So I stayed quiet and enjoyed what he was doing.  I had shut my eyes and I
felt him kiss the closed lids.  He kissed the tip of my nose and each
cheek.  I felt him kiss my chin.  I knew it was coming and I didn't want to
stop.  I wanted this, needed this.  I was lost and was hoping to be found.
I felt Max lower his lips to mine.  It had been so long since I had done
this, since Jake.  I was twenty-seven, it had been thirteen years.  My god,
I had missed this incredible connection.  I opened my mouth and let him in.
My lips rubbed against his as his tongue lightly, playfully stroked mine.
I heard myself whimper and felt his resulting groan reverberate through the
both of us.  I rolled him over on his back, wedging myself between his
legs.  I was hard and positioned just right.  I held him tighter as I
pushed forward.  Oh god, it just never ends; this connection.  I had eased
completely inside and I just stayed, savoring the warmth and connection.
We were still kissing, moving lips over each other.  I put my hands in
motion, stroking his body.  His arms, his legs, his chest and stomach: over
and over, building him, stoking his fire.  I began to move my hips, pulling
out and pushing forward.  Oh my, we were building fast.  But I held tight
control over the rising feelings.  The sensations were better than any
other I had ever experienced, but I stopped the end, held on to my climax
by the fingertips.  My eyes had been shut from the moment we kissed, making
my other sense take over.  The taste of his kiss in my mouth, the smell of
sex and warmth in my nose and the passionate moans and groans filled my
ears.  But my skin was over-sensitized.  I felt every square inch of his
skin against mine.  I felt his hands skimming over my back and his thighs
bracing my hips as I moved inside him.  I felt our sweating stomachs graze
against each other, wedging his stiff cock in the hairy, wet cocoon.  I
felt his nipples, hardened and beaded, against my chest, raking through my
thick chest hair.  I felt my own nipples brush his warm chest.  His stubble
covered cheek brushed mine.  I was beyond ready to cum, but I was waiting
for Max.  He pulled away from my mouth and tried to catch his breath.  I
didn't open my eyes because I wanted to stay in the sensual haze.  Then I
heard his deep voice tell me to let go.  I shook my head, not wanting it to
be over.  He caressed my cheeks and kissed the tip of my nose and told me
again to let go.  It was too much.  I tightened up everywhere, I was going
to cum and it was going to be with my whole body.  The first wave hit me,
causing me to erupt.  It almost hurt I came so much.  I kept releasing, the
spasms lasting for long seconds.  I was spent and drooping, collapsed
completely on Max.  With my final plunge, I felt him grip me and explode
between us, coating our torsos with his thick release.

I felt myself drifting to sleep.  I knew I was too heavy.  For countless
minutes I tried to move, willing my sated muscles to lift off Max.  But
when I finally did move, Max grabbed me and told me to stay.  I relaxed and
fell asleep, still wedged inside his body and nestled in the cradle of his
arms and legs.  He had lowered his legs so they wouldn't cramp, but he let
me just lie there and sleep, safe and content.  I don't know how long I
slept, time really had no meaning to me.  But it was still dark.  I was
lying with my head in the crook of his neck and shoulder.  His arms were
around me and he was hard between us.  Feeling him like that made me
stiffen and lengthen inside him.  I pulled my head up and looked at him, he
was smiling but his eyes were closed.  I kissed him.  I initiated it, I
moved my mouth over his, waiting for him to wake if he was sleeping.  He
smiled even more and opened up, meeting my tongue.  I undulated my hips and
he arched his back.  God, I loved his ability to move with me.  I moved
over and over inside him, feeling him build, knowing that we would explode
again and soon.  It was no time at all before he was gripping me, inside
and out, writhing in completion, coating my belly with his essence.  It was
enough, it was too much, I clamped onto his mouth as I poured into him.
The waves calmed, this release was mellow, drawn out and smooth.  I slid
out of him and turned us to our sides.  I realized that we had forgotten
something.

"I've never forgotten a condom before, Max.  I'm sorry."

"Don't be.  I know you are careful and for me it's not a possibility.  It
has been far too long."

"How long?"

"Since John died.  He was my first and only.  Until you."

I was humbled.  Four years was a long time.  I found myself opening up and
sharing about Jake.  I told him all about the time we spent together and
the tragedy that parted us.  I watched empathy enter his eyes.  He told me
that he and John met when they were both fourteen; that they had been
inseparable since.  He was now thirty-one and he had been alone since that
night long ago when he got the news that John's car careened out of control
on a patch of ice and he was dead.  I wanted to ask why me?  But I was
never going to, insecurity wasn't really something I was familiar with.  I
was uncomfortable with it.  He saw too much in my eyes.

"It was time Sam.  I had been thinking about getting out for a while.  You
just came up and surprised me."

I grabbed him and kissed him again.  I don't know why I was avoiding
kissing.  It was so much a part of making love.  No it was just sex.  My
detachment was crumbling.  But we didn't have sex again.  We just kissed a
few times.  He twisted around so he spooned against my back.  He held me
and stroked my chest.  Within seconds, I was asleep.

I woke up in bed alone.  The sun had risen, but it hadn't been up for very
long.  I was lying on my stomach and I reached out for Max, missing his
presence.  He walked back in the room with a mug and my clothes, folded in
a pile in his arms.  He had washed and dried them while I slept.  He handed
me the mug and went and got another for himself.  The coffee hit my system
and I was up and ready for the day.  I think it was more the night I had
just spent rather than caffeine, but I wasn't sure.  Max got back in the
room and sat by me on the bed.  He asked how I was doing.  All I could do
was smile.  I polished off my coffee and took his mug before pulling him
down and under me.  I started kissing him again, feeling his lips mold to
mine as our tongues caressed each other.  I felt him stiffen under his
robe.  I pulled it off him and dove onto his erection.  I bobbed on it with
my mouth.  I made him wet and so hard that when I pulled off it slapped
against his belly.  I had a hard time pulling it away so I could put it
back in my mouth.  He was steely and beautiful.  I kept moving over him,
swirling my tongue until I felt his testicles tighten against him.  I moved
off him, slid between his legs and impaled him in one swift, hard thrust.
I was in him to the hilt.  The moment I hit his prostate, he exploded,
crying out, screaming with pleasure.  I waited for his spasms to stop,
willing my own release away until he had calmed.  When he was relaxed
again, breathing near normal, I started to move.  I moved in achingly slow
thrusts.  Pulling almost out before pushing all the way back.  He gripped
me, milked me.  I was powerless.  I was lost in the sensations.  I kept my
movements steady, pushing into him, building up.  I felt Max build too.  It
had only been a few minutes, but I felt Max clench again.  I felt his
release against my stomach as I exploded inside him.  I usually don't cry
out like that.  I usually keep quiet, but I couldn't this time.  It was too
good.

I was nuzzling his throat with my nose, feeling sated and warm, enjoying
the afterglow.  Then I heard Max.  "I love you."  I froze.  His saying it
didn't bother me.  The truth is I needed to hear him say it.  I wanted
those words and for them to be true.  But what scared the life out of me
was how close I came to saying them back.  I sat up and turned from him.
Max curled up around me and told me it was okay.  I stood up.  Guilt and
remorse was flowing through me.  I was so confused.  Max simply stood and
handed me my clothes.  His face was a mask.  He smiled tightly at me.  I
finished dressing quickly and was heading for the door.  He had put his
robe back on and followed me to the door.  I wanted to say something, I
tried to say something, but nothing came out.  Max just smiled and kissed
my cheek before pushing me out and closing the door.

The next few days were kind of a blur.  I felt bad, I felt like a liar and
a cheat.  I was lying to my friends, my coworkers and Max.  I was lost.  I
didn't go see Bill in the hospital either.  I went to work and fought the
fires, but my mind wasn't in it and that could cause people to be hurt or
die.  My commander told me to take a few days off.  I agreed.  While I was
home one night I heard a knock at my door.  It was Max.  I was so happy to
see him and also confused.  He didn't know where I lived.  I was also
enraged.  I had set up the walls.  I was living my life and he was
threatening that foundation.  He was pulling me towards something I didn't
know if I was ready for.  I got angry and pulled him inside.

"What the hell are you doing Max?  What, are you stalking me?"

"No, I just..."

"What, looking for answers.  I don't have any.  It was just sex.  That's
all it was.  Sex.  A fuck.  Get over it."

I watched a wall come up inside him.  I knew I had just reached in and
taken his heart and slashed it in two.  But I couldn't stop myself.

"No Sam.  I'm not stalking you.  Yes, I know it was just sex.  I've always
known it was just a fuck to you.  But it turned into something more for me.
But you, that's right, you, kept coming back.  Guess what, grow up!  The
next time you come to me, you better get your own life in order."

Oh God!  I felt like I was two inches tall.  He turned and walked to my
door.  Just before he got there he turned and handed me a piece of paper.

"Don't forget to vote."

Then he was gone.  I looked at the paper.  It was a campaign pamphlet.  Oh
god!  All he was doing was doorbelling.  I felt even smaller.  I knew I was
wrong.  I knew I was hurting him to keep myself from hurting.  But it
wasn't working.  I was hurting.

I found myself at the hospital.  I was standing in Bill's room, overlooking
him lying in bed.  His arm was wrapped in gauze and he was slightly
drugged.  I just sat by him.  I had his left hand wrapped in mine.  I was
so confused.  I was hurting.  I knew that what Bill said was the truth.  It
wasn't my fault he got hurt.  It could have happened to the little girl and
me.  I knew I was crying.  But I was also letting go of the guilt.  I was
healing.  I noticed the wedding ring on his hand.  I knew it was a symbol
of everlasting love, commitment and fidelity.  An idea formed in my mind.
It was good that I was there that night with Bill.  My life became clear.
I understood what my fears were.  Fear kept me alone and afraid.  I decided
to let it go.  Bill woke up a few minutes later.  I was smiling at him.  My
first words out of my mouth told him I was gay.  He just nodded and smiled
back.  He told me that he knew.  I told him that he was my best friend and
I loved him like a brother.  He told me he and his wife just found out that
number eight was on the way.

"I'm sorry I stayed away."

"I understood."

It was all we needed to say.  I left his room just before dawn.  I think we
were both feeling better about each other.  He was going to heal just fine.
He was going to be a father again.  He could still do what he loved.  I was
going to be happy.  I choose to be happy.  I made a couple of stops early
that morning before going and seeing my commander.  I told him that I was
fine.  That I worked out my problems.  He was relieved.  The arsonist and a
flu virus were hitting the force hard.  I agreed to work that night.  Max
would have to wait until tomorrow.

The first call of the night was at the home of a senior citizen.  She
didn't make it and was overcome by smoke.  Chalk up one more body for the
arsonist.  We were on our way back to the station when the fourth alarm
went out for another fire.  I wasn't paying attention to the address.  We
were going to an apartment complex and we were going to be a ladder hose.
I was getting the gear ready, prepping the team.  It wasn't until we pulled
up to the complex that I recognized the address: Max!  All I could think
about was Max.  Oh god.  He had to be okay.  But years of training had me
shutting it off.  My crew and I did our job.  We lay down suppression
streams on the roof and tried to knock out the flames.  Within a couple of
hours the fire was done.  I was on ember duty; we raked through the charred
remains of furniture and walls, dousing the slightest possible flame up.  I
heard the inspectors say that it was the arsonist.  The fire started on the
fourth floor.  My blood ran cold.  I had been checking the crowd, searching
for Max.  I hadn't seen him.  That was when they carried out the first body
bag.  It was followed by two more.  I bent in half.  Everyone thought I was
overcome by heat and smoke.  I sat hard on the ground as they pushed
oxygen.  They had found the bodies on the fourth floor.  I was numb, but
tears poured off my face.  I realized I loved him and now he was gone.  I
had figured it all out while sitting with Bill.  I love him.  I never got
the opportunity to tell him.  My last words were spoken in fear and anger.
Oh god!

Then I looked up into the crowd.  Max had just pulled up to his complex.
He ran to the barricade.  All I could think was that he was okay.  I stood
and ran to him.  I had thrown off my bunting coat and I didn't have a shirt
on.  I ran right to him and wrapped him in my arms and almost squeezed the
life out of him.  I kept chanting his name.  I kept hugging him.  Then I
pulled back and looked in his eyes.  "I love you, Max."  Then I kissed him.
It was hot and hungry.  I needed to know he was alive and I kept kissing
him.  Over and over I moved my mouth over his, feeling him alive and warm
and in my arms.  I pulled back from him and looked in his eyes.  I told him
where my spare keys were and told him to go to my house.  I kissed him
again.  When I pulled away, I noticed the television cameras.  Well, hell.
I guess I had no choice now.  I was out.  I sent Max off to my house and
rode back to the station with the crew.  Some of them just laughed, knowing
I was probably in deep shit with the commander.  One or two got a little
uncomfortable looking, but for the most part, they were simply my
coworkers, my family.  It didn't matter.  I must have smiled the entire
ride back to the station.  I was deliriously happy that Max was okay.  I
also really liked the idea of him being in my home.  I liked it a lot.

My smile quickly vanished when we got back to the station.  The commander
was waiting for me.  He was an older man, close to retirement.  He called
me into his office.  Behind his desk was the eleven o'clock news.  The lead
story was the arsonist and his latest conquests.  The second story was Max
and I.  I sat and watched.  When our part came up, I actually smiled.  I
recognized the look I gave Max.  I had seen it many times.  Bill gave it to
his wife every time he saw her.  I had found that same soul-deep
connection.  I couldn't stop grinning.  The commander simply glared at me.
Then his look softened.  He told me not to worry.  It was only a story.
Then he told me to not kiss in front of television cameras again.  I went
into the locker room and showered, right next to the same guys that I
always showered next to.  Except I was different, I was open and everyone
knew it.  But, except for one or two of the guys, no one seemed to care.
The married ones really didn't care.  They had someone to go home to.  So
did I and I couldn't wait.

I drove home quickly.  I couldn't wait to hold Max.  I unlocked my house
and found him, sitting on my sofa.  He looked lost.  I then realized that
he lost his home, all his memories and his valuables.  I sat by him and
pulled him into my arms.  It was my turn to comfort him.  I pulled him up.
His hands were cold; he was in shock.  I pulled him into my arms and walked
him to the shower.  I pulled off our clothes and got into the shower with
him.  I washed him, lathering his body and I kissed him, often.  I pulled
him out of the shower and dried him off.  I then took him to my bed.  It
was a large king-size and I just held him under the covers.  I kissed him
from time to time and told him I loved him.  Eventually he slept.  I was
too wired to sleep.  I just held him through the night.  A few hours before
dawn I fell asleep too.

I awoke to the sun shining on my face.  Max was sitting in the window seat.
He was staring out at the backyard.  I was now really worried about him.  I
got up and sat by him.  I took his hand in mine.  He looked at me and
smiled.  Maybe things were going to be okay.  I brought our hands to my
mouth and kissed his knuckles.

"I'm so sorry Max.  I'm sorry I hurt you.  I'm sorry I didn't grow up
faster.  I'm sorry we couldn't save your home."

"There were some pictures that I won't be able to replace."

"That's what is so sad about my job.  You see memories reduced to ash.  But
as long as you remember up here," I pointed to his head, "then they never
really go away."

"You're right."

I was afraid of his response and I sheepishly asked.  "So will you stay
with me?"

He nodded.  My face must have exploded in a grin.  He laughed.  I kissed
him.  I then picked him up and carried him to bed.  He was so very
responsive.  I kissed him harder.  I pushed him down on the bed and covered
his body with mine.  I kissed him over and over.  I rubbed my body against
his.  Then I looked him in the eye and told him again that I loved him.  He
told me he loved me too.  I slid into him.  I moved inside him, swiveling
my hips, trying to rock him to the core.  He kept arching his back into me,
rubbing his chest against mine.  This is bad, but I had never been inside
someone I loved.  I came almost instantly, long before Max was satisfied.
I grunted and groaned, bucking and writhing like I was dying before I
collapsed on top of him.  In the few seconds it took me to come back to
earth I knew I had screwed up.  My first time after telling him I love him
and I was selfish in the sack; perfect!

Then I thought about it.  We are going to be together forever, at least if
I have anything to do with it.  I think it was time I took one of the last
steps.  I slid out of Max and lay by him, on my stomach.  I was nervous,
but I told Max that I wanted him to make love to me.

"I want you to be inside me.  I want you to make love to me."

"Sam, you don't have to do this.  It's no big deal that you were a little
quick on the draw."

He saw me blush and he laughed and apologized.

"Max, I've never done it before.  Jake and I talked about it, but we never
got around to it.  I've wanted to, but I never trusted anyone I was with.
But I completely trust you.  I love you.  Please."

His eyes were tearing up but he nodded.  He skimmed his hands over my back.
I felt goose bumps spring up where his hands had trailed.  He moved over
me, lying on my back, letting his hairiness caress my back.  He stuck his
knees between mine and forced my legs apart.  I kept thinking he was just
going to ram it in.  He was still rock hard.  I tensed.  He kissed the back
of my neck and told me to relax.  He moved down me, skimming his hands and
lips over my back.  He kept moving lower and lower.  When he got down to my
ass, he kept massaging the globes, separating and rubbing the cheeks.  His
hands kept going in circles, moving closer and closer to my crack.
Finally, one of his hands brushed through my crack.  I moaned.  His fingers
started exploring, teasing the hair and moving it, parting it.  Then I felt
him kiss the left cheek.  His mouth kept skimming over my ass and moved to
my crack.  When he reached the soft flesh, his tongue touched me.  I
jumped.  Electricity flowed from his touch to me.  He moved lower and lower
getting closer and closer to my hole.  I felt him kiss the skin around the
hole then touched it with his tongue.  I felt myself clench.  Then I forced
myself to relax.  Then he started using his tongue.  He moved over me over
and over.  He lapped me and swirled around me.  I felt myself start
opening.  Then he stabbed me with his tongue.  I was rock hard.  Oh god!
Why did I ever not do this?  Jesus!  Oh god!  He kept moving his tongue in
and out of my ring.  I begged him not to stop.  I know I was whimpering
into the pillow.  I actually bit it to keep from crying out.  Then he
pulled his tongue away.  I lifted up in protest.  But he just pushed me
back down.  He blew cool air over the wet skin.  I shivered.  Then he
huffed warm air over me.  I moaned.  Then I felt him place a finger against
me.  It pushed right in, to the knuckle.  It sort of burned, it wasn't
uncomfortable, but it was different.  Then he hit something.  I felt a
tingle hit me.  I actually felt my cock release a large drop of pre-cum.
Then a second finger joined the first.  The tingle got stronger.  Then a
third finger joined in.  He kept moving the three in and out, twisting and
turning.  I knew he was trying to open me, getting me ready.  This was
easy.  I was no longer nervous and I told him.

"That's good baby.  But I need you begging.  I need you to be on edge.  I
want you so hot that you cum just from my fingers.  Then I'm going to love
you and fuck you until you cum, at least twice."

He kissed my shoulder.  Then told me he was hoping to make me cum three
times.  It was too much, the suggestive talk, the fingers, the
anticipation.  I shot, over and over right into my sheets.  I cried out and
moaned.  With his fingers there, I felt how I clamped and clutched when I
came.  Now I knew what I was feeling from the other side.  Oh God!  I am a
fool for never doing this before.  Then as I calmed my breathing, feeling
Max climb up me, ready, I knew I didn't want this with anyone else.  This
is special and I only want to share it with him.  Then I felt him at my
opening.  He teased me, brushing the dripping head back and forth over my
opening.  I felt myself push back on him.  I wanted him to be inside.  But
he just brushed me with it, back and forth.  I was moaning, whimpering,
begging.  Then he flipped me over.  I looked in his eyes.  I thought he was
teasing.  He wasn't.  His face was taut with the control he was enforcing.
His eyes were glassy and he was on edge.  I wanted to touch him.  I reached
to clasp his face and he pulled back.  Then he grabbed my hips, pushed my
knees forward and pushed into me.  I felt my eyes roll up into the back of
my head.  I felt full, but not bad.  I stretched around him, accepting,
begging for more.  He rocked into me slowly, scooting forward by scant
millimeters.  It seemed a lifetime of sizzling, electrifying sensations
before he was in me completely.  I felt his testicles brush my ass; I felt
his pubic hair meshing with the hair under my balls.  I opened my eyes and
looked at him.  He had his eyes shut and his jaw clenched, holding back.
He just stayed and I didn't move, at least not intentionally.  But I felt
my sphincter relax around him and my body tried to pull him in, seating
him, milking him.  He groaned loudly before pulling back.  Then I breathed
out in a gasp when he pushed back into me.  He brushed something inside me
and I got even harder.  I felt my cock brush in the hair on my belly,
moving subtly by my heartbeat and then harder with his gentle thrusting.
Max pushed on my legs so he could lower to me.  I moved them to the side so
I could wrap them around him; so I could pull him to me, hold him tighter.
His chest brushed mine, I arched my back to him; I wanted our bodies to
touch.  I now understood so much that I had observed from the other side.
I was building, I was growing, oh god!  I felt the tingles grow more
severe, I felt myself climb to orgasm.  I knew it was going to happen.  He
kept brushing my prostate, each stroke made my testicles rise higher.  I
felt my stomach clench, pulling my thighs and causing my cock to stiffen.
He brushed it once, twice and I exploded.  I screamed out in ecstasy.  Each
single spasm got a bellow from deep inside.  I felt cum hit my chest, my
stomach and I watched it hit and cling to the hair on Max' chest.

He still kept thrusting; I was spent.  Drained.  Then he hit my trigger
again.  My cock refused to go down.  The sensations this time was less
intense but longer lasting.  I was building again, but slowly.  I felt him
speed up a little; his thrusting became shorter so he hit my prostate
faster and harder.  It was going to happen again, I was going to cum.  I
looked up at him and saw glossy eyes, tight cheeks and a rosy, passionate
flush.  He was on a mission, focused on our pleasure.  He was bucking and
arching into me.  He was close.  I pulled him towards me, fusing our
bellies together.  I had had the brushing of my hairy belly caress my cock,
now I had it wedged between two, sweaty bellies, grinding the head and
stroking my shaft in sweaty, lubricated motions.  I was now building by two
means.  It was too much.  Ten, eleven thrusts later and I was shooting
again.  I watched, this time it was less solid, more fluidic, spraying
farther onto my face and shoulders.  I know I clamped him, pulling him,
milking him.  He started getting jerky in his thrusts.  I felt Max tighten.
He pulled out partially so the tip of his cock was against my prostate; he
nudged up over and over, pushing the flared tip against that bead of nerve
endings.  I started crying out, whimpering.  I had never known such
pleasure, such rare bliss.  Then he cried out over me.  I saw the cords on
his neck stand out.  He called out my name and kept chanting it with each
pulse of his release.  Inside me, I felt each spurt hit against my
prostate, each twitch of his cock's release flexed my ring and chaffed my
channel.  He did it, I don't know how, but I came again, just a couple of
minutes after the last time.  I cried out my love for Max.  I was so spent,
so tired and so very, very sated.

Max collapsed on top of me.  I was so gone I couldn't even wrap my arms
around him.  I thought we were going to need an oxygen tank just to catch
our breath.  Each beat of my heart had my cock twitch in aftershocks.  Each
of my twitches caused Max to groan.  I felt my heart slow.  I could no
longer feel his pound against mine.  I still couldn't move my arms but I
could nuzzle his neck and cheek with my nose.  He moved his nose and
nuzzled me.  It wasn't much, but it worked, we were connecting and
touching.  Slowly, very slowly, we started to kiss, to search and meet with
lips and tongue.  We were coated in my essence, our sweat.  When we could
move again, about twenty minutes after, I took him to my bathroom.  We
crawled into the tub and all we did was soak in the warm, sudsy water.  I
traced each muscle and curve with a soapy sponge.  He returned the favor.
It wasn't sexual so much as sensual.  After the water revived us, we
drained the tub and dried each other off.  We kept grinning at each other.
Max kept asking if I was okay.  I couldn't stop laughing.  I told him I
almost didn't make it; it was just too good.  We walked back into my room.
Max sat down and scooted himself onto the bed.  He sat cross-legged and I
was heading over to him.  But I tripped on my pants, and then I remembered.
I knelt down and got the surprise out of the pocket.

I sat down and faced Max, sitting just like him so our knees met.  I took
the box.  The morning I left Bill at the hospital, after seeing that symbol
of love, I wanted the same for us.  Legally we couldn't bind ourselves, but
this moment was perfect.  I opened the box in front of him.  Inside were
two gold bands, thick and shiny.  Max looked down at them in surprise.  I
took out the one that would fit me and placed it in his hand.  Then I took
the one that was for him and took his left hand.  I looked straight in his
eyes.  I put all the solemnity and love I could into my eyes, let down all
the walls so he could see the truth in what I was about to do.  As I pushed
the ring onto his finger, I told him:

"With this ring, I thee wed.  With my body I thee worship and with all my
worldly goods I thee endow.  I take thee in sickness and in health, for
richer for poorer.  Forsaking all others until death us do part."

My voice cracked towards the end.  I had stood up for my brother and a few
friends when they spoke their vows.  I had always found them so very,
perfect.  I never thought I would get to say them, but I did.  Now I just
waited for Max to return them.  I looked in his eyes and let his hand go.
It was now in his hands.  I didn't realize I was holding my breath until he
took my hand and I finally exhaled.  He pushed the ring on my finger.  His
voice was hoarse as he spoke to me.  But my heart filled with each word.  I
didn't realize that a tear or two had leaked out until he wiped them away.
We started kissing, which led to making love; me in him, him in me, over
and over and day after day, year after year.  Our bond grew stronger and
stronger as did our love.

Two years later, at the bar, we celebrated the commander's retirement and
Bill's promotion to his spot.  Bill's wife was there, round and pregnant,
happy to be expecting number nine; both of them grinning ear to ear, always
touching.  I sat on a barstool, with Max standing in front of me.  My arms
wrapped around him.  I couldn't stop touching him or him me and when he had
to go to the bar or the kitchen, I still knew where he was, even without
turning my head.  And when he returned, there was always a gentle kiss; a
light touch, even just my hand on his shoulder or his hand on my leg was
enough.  But each touch cemented us.  Somehow we found that contentment
that only those blessed with a true and abiding love find.