Fire Balls

by Tara Lain

  The voice called from the bedroom. “Hey, I’m lonely in here.”

  He went back into the small bedroom and stretched out alongside Jerry. The guy had a beautiful cock. Dripping now like a sweet fountain. All of Jerry was beautiful. He even had a kind heart. Why couldn’t Hunter appreciate Jerry the way he deserved?

  Hunter gently cleaned Jerry’s cock and the pool on the sheet, then draped the cloth on the edge of the wastebasket beside the bed.

  Jerry stretched, showing off all those lean surfer muscles. “That was really great. Hey, are you excited about Roman painting you? You’ll get to see my picture when you’re there, but I know yours will be a lot better.”

  “Not likely. Besides, he didn’t seem very excited about it. I think we should just table it, you know.”

  “Table? Oh, you mean forget it. Hell, no. I know Roman would love to paint you. You gotta do it.”

  Did he want to? He rolled on his back. “It would be hard to explain at the station if anybody knew what I was doing. Or if somebody saw the painting. Not a pretty sight. I get teased a lot as it is… and worse.”

  “I’m sure Roman can pose you so your face isn’t real clear. I’ve seen him do that with other guys.”

  “Not much point, really.”

  Jerry rolled to his side and ran a hand along Hunter’s hip bone. “Hell yeah, man. That body ought to be in pictures.”

  Okay, don’t sigh. Jesus, he had such a good life. Why was he so uneasy all the time? He smiled at Jerry. “So tell me some more about you. What else do you like to do for fun?”

  “Else?”

  “Besides surf.”

  Jerry shrugged and smiled. “Hey, how did you become a firefighter? I mean that’s so cool.”

  The man sure didn’t like to talk about himself. Oh well. “I guess I did it for my dad. He always wanted to be in the department but had some health issues and didn’t qualify. And then he had the accident. He really wanted me to go for it, so I did.”

  “Do you study firefighting or what?”

  “Yeah. First I got a different degree, then went back and got a degree in fire science—”

  “Wow, that must be amazing. Up on those towers, using all that equipment and shit. Man, I’d love to do that. I mean, do you get to drive the engine?”

  The guy was so ingenuous. Hard not to smile. “No, I’m not a driver. But if you love the idea so much, why don’t you go to school for fire science?”

  “Too late, man.”

  “Hell, no. What are you? Twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “You could still do it.”

  Jerry shook his blond head slowly, like a cow worrying a lead. “I’m not good at school, man. No. Not good at all.” The megawatt smile returned. “So when you pose for Roman tomorrow, are you going to wear your fire helmet?”

  And just like that. Full circle.

  Chapter Four

  SO THIS was what an artist’s studio looked like. Hunter stopped in the dusty dirt driveway that passed the low building. Even though it was right off busy Canyon Road, the place felt rural. He could see the edges of skylights in the roof. Some nice plantings surrounded the block building, and trees crowded the other side of the drive, but the studio was positioned to catch the light.

  What the hell was he doing here? Seriously, if anyone at the firehouse heard about it… if Mick got wind…. Shit, stop being a pussy. Do the hell what you want to do. And for some damned reason, he wanted to do this. Why? He wasn’t so vain he had to have his body preserved for posterity. But the little painter…. Not Hunter’s type at all, but Rod aka Roman had something, like maybe the guy would get him. Capture something on the canvas. Tell him something about himself he didn’t know.

  Jesus, that was pretty philosophical. This was just a few artistic steps above calendar art. Get on with it.

  He walked over to the door. The bright light outside made the interior seem dim. He tapped on the screen. “Anyone here? Rod?”

  “Hi. Uh, come on in.”

  He pushed open the screen and stepped inside the door. The large interior space was one big open room. He stood in a sort of reception area with a chair and a filing cabinet behind a small desk, which held a phone and a few papers. Beyond that, the skylights poured a warm glow into the big area. A well-used couch stood against one wall, and a large modern daybed dominated a slightly raised platform. Looked like a set for a porn movie. He shivered.

  In the middle of the room, a large canvas, probably six feet wide and four or five feet tall, stood propped on a low easel. Paint tubes, scratched and partly squished, lay in some order known only to the artist on a large wooden worktable beside the easel. Said artist walked around the canvas with a hairdryer, applying heat to the shiny surface in small circles.

  Hunter smiled through his nerves. “Here I thought I was going to be painted, not get a new do.”

  Rod laughed. “Putting gesso on the canvas. It dries fast. Can’t lay down the oils without it.” He nodded toward a table in front of the couch, where delicious smells penetrated the odor of paint. “There’s coffee in that carafe, and I got some bagels and croissants in case you haven’t eaten.”

  Hunter took a deep breath to relax. He wanted to do this, so why the hell was he so nervous? He walked over and poured coffee into a mug. Even real cream. “Can I get you one?”

  “No, thanks. My hands will be too busy for a while.”

  A basket with a white napkin held the baked goods. Man, fancy. He rolled back the white linen to reveal what looked like a cranberry-orange scone. “This is great, thanks.”

  “Uh, no problem.”

  The sound of the hairdryer made chitchat difficult. Good. He wasn’t quite ready to be social with Roman. He sat on the couch, sipping his coffee. The sweet orange icing on the pastry burst in his mouth. Really was good.

  He set the coffee on a side table and took a book, but he was more interested in watching Rod move efficiently around the canvas. Little guy. Probably no more than five feet six or seven. Slender. Maybe a better word was wiry. Fair skin stretched taut over hard muscle in the arms that showed beneath the short-sleeved T-shirt, which starred some rock group nearly obliterated by paint smudges. Loose cotton pants featured a whole range of spattered colors. Rod’s platinum hair, short in the back and long over his forehead, boasted some green tips, though they’d been blue the other night. Actually the guy was… well, pretty in a push-it-in-your-face, six hoops in the ear, counterculture sort of way. Not his type, of course.

  The whirring sound stopped. Rod put down the hairdryer and lightly touched the canvas. “Should be okay by the time we need it.” He glanced at Hunter, then back at the canvas. “Want to get ready?”

  Rod sounded as nervous as Hunter felt. Not good. “So, you must have a lot of models in here.”

  “Uh, yeah. I’m going to pose you on that daybed. Would you go up there and sit, please? Take your coffee.”

  Well, shit. His knees were knocking. He took his coffee over to the dais supporting the daybed. He perched on the bed’s edge and set his cup on the floor. A small space heater hummed nearby, warming the cool morning air around the daybed. Nice, but the heater looked kind of old, and its cord even older.

  “Would you take off your hoodie?”

  Oh crap. He pulled the gray sweatshirt over his head. The air hit his naked skin. Goose bumps even with the heater.

  “Is it warm enough? It’ll be hot in here in a little while.” Rod ducked his head. “Uh, you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m fine. But you know, you ought to check the cord. Those heaters pull a lot of amps, and that cord looks a little old and frayed.”

  Silence. He glanced up. Lips twitching, Rod looked like he could bust a gut.

  “Guess I sound like Smokey the Bear, right?”

  “My exact thought.”

  He deepened his voice. “Only you can prevent studio fires.” He laughed. “Sorry. It’s my job.”

  “Yeah, I get it. And I
’ll check it later. Let’s experiment with some poses, okay?”

  He clasped his hands. “Uh, I was telling Jerry, uh, it’s probably better if you don’t show my face. Is that okay? I mean, the guys at the station and other people….”

  Rod paused for moment, then nodded. “Sure.”

  He probably thought Hunter was a wuss.

  “If we’re not going to show your face, then I’d like to do a full nude. It gives the painting a reason for being, as a figure study.” The cute face flashed a grin. “Of course, I say that to all the boys.”

  Hunter laughed—and blushed. “Uh, shall I….” He gestured to his gym pants that still covered his family jewels.

  “Not yet. Let’s get you posed first. Then I’ll have you disrobe so I can see all the lines.”

  Lines. Interesting term.

  Rod brought pillows from a side table to Hunter. “Try stretching out. Put your head on this pillow but lean back a little.”

  Hunter tried to follow the direction.

  “Twist your body so your hips are toward me and your head turns slightly to the back wall. Put an arm over your eyes and bend the top leg.”

  Hunter complied. Pretty comfortable, like how he might lie in the sun on a warm morning. Of course, soon it would be more like nude sunbathing.

  “Think you can hold that long enough for me to get some photos and quick sketches?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay. Take off your pants.”

  He froze. Panic. He sucked in a breath. C’mon, you shower and change clothes with other guys around all the time. He wasn’t modest or shy, but he found that being really seen by someone both attracted and scared him.

  Rod went back to the easel, probably to help Hunter feel more at ease.

  Get over yourself. Hunter jumped to his feet, stripped his gym pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles in one yank, and kicked off his flip-flops. After stepping out of the pile of cloth, he tossed everything over a chair that faced the couch. Cock dangling in the breeze, he lay back on the chaise and put his arm over his face gladly, hoping he’d hide his blush.

  ROD GLANCED over to see how his model was doing. Total heart stop and brain malfunction. Perfect. Every line and curve. Every angle. Hunter’s body was so lean that each muscle stood out against his tan skin like a piece of sculpture. The pose twisted his torso just enough to make his narrow waist seem even slimmer against the breadth of his shoulders and his hard, curved pecs. His legs were long and looked carved from marble. Even his feet arched perfectly. Oh God. Rod wanted to suck each toe in homage.

  In the middle of all this art, surrounded by light tan skin and at the end of a happy trail of silken dark hair, rested a magnificent cock, lying relaxed against Hunter’s right leg. He was a low hanger, a real shower. Long and graceful, framed by loose balls and a soft pubic nest, this was a penis of the gods. Rod wanted to paint it all alone in every possible posture. Yeah, preferably erect. Shit, he had to quit staring, or at least pretend the staring was professional and not prurient. Sure, right.

  Hunter’s cock might be relaxed, but the rest of his body was vibrating with tension. Rod tried not to think how much he would like that to be reversed. Had to put the guy at ease before he had a coronary.

  He grabbed his camera from the worktable and started snapping. “Looks great, Hunter. Perfect. Just relax as much as you can while I snap some photos. I’ll use these to work on the painting when you’re not here. I can use the shots to get general massing and proportion, but I like to have the model live to put in texture and shadow. Nothing beats life for that kind of detail.” He was babbling, but he hoped it would help the guy relax.

  Hunter’s beautiful body seemed to melt into the daybed, his arm over his eyes relaxed, and his fingers opened. Rod drew nearer to capture a close-up of that graceful, powerful hand, then hurried back to the table and grabbed the sketch pad, leaving the camera behind. God, those long fingers. He stared at the calluses that seemed in conflict with the dance-like beauty of the relaxed hand. Scribbling, he committed the pose to paper before shifting his attention. A fast interpretation of Hunter’s carved mouth, the top lip intriguingly fuller than the bottom, giving the architectural symmetry of his face an unexpected pout. A quick swirl to capture his cleft chin, then a loving sketch of the gorgeous collarbone that defined the hard, muscular shoulder.

  Down and down. Rod hummed. Hunter seemed unconcerned, his breath having slowed. Maybe he needed a good nap. Man, look at those abs. That was a twelve-pack, baby. Down the happy trail and…. He stopped sketching in awe. What a cock. Had to capture it. His fingers flew over the paper as he quietly chuckled. Yeah, he’d like to capture it. In his hands or mouth. He did study after study, glancing up to be sure Hunter wasn’t watching Rod fixate on that dick.

  Okay, enough. “Hunter, move if you need to,” Rod murmured.

  “Huh?” The arm came off his eyes, and he raised his head. “Oh man, I think I was nearly asleep.”

  “Sorry to wake you. Go ahead and sleep, and I’ll just draw.”

  He sat up. “No. I better stretch or I’ll get really stiff. Sorry. I just got off a double shift. Didn’t realize I was so tired.”

  Rod pointed to a clothes tree beside the platform. “Need a bathrobe?”

  Hunter gave a shy grin. A-fucking-dorable. “Nah, I guess not. We’re both guys.”

  Rod struck a pose with hand on hip. “But since we’re both gay guys, the implications are slightly different, wouldn’t you say?”

  Hunter shook his head. “No fishing in another guy’s pond.”

  Rod’s heart tripped. “You mean you and Jerry?”

  “No, I mean Bill. He seems like a great guy.”

  Rod smiled. “He is, but we’re just friends.”

  Hunter sat on the edge of the daybed, that gorgeous cock hanging down between his legs. Distracting much? Rod busied himself blocking out the figure on the huge canvas.

  “I thought you two were on a date.”

  “Yeah. Our first and last. Dutch from now on. We realized we make better pals than lovers.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  Rod looked up. “Nothing to be sorry about. Not everyone fits.”

  “But wouldn’t you have liked it to work?”

  He stopped drawing. Would he? “I kind of have a thing for someone else. Unrequited. But it makes getting into a relationship harder.” He spoke the truth.

  “You need to find someone who appreciates you. A talent like you doesn’t come along every day.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe.” A small crack opened in his heart.

  “Shall I lie back down?”

  “Need the bathroom or anything?”

  “No, I’m good.” Hunter lay down.

  Rod looked away. Shit. Deep breath. He returned to the canvas and tried for a rakish smile. “Besides, I imagine Bill’s a top. We would have killed each other. He’d push me down, and I’d fight and grab him. It would have been ugly. Blood all over, both of us trying to dominate.”

  Silence. Deafening silence. Rod glanced up. Hunter lay in the prescribed position, arm over eyes, but his formerly relaxed cock had risen to half-mast. What had gotten him going? Bill? Being a top? Killing each other. Hmm.

  Let’s find out. “I’d try to stick my cock in his ass, and he’d be trying to grab me and hold me down. What a battle.”

  Sure enough, the slow rise continued. Rod edged closer. Crap, Hunter wasn’t just a shower. Look at that gorgeous thing. Closer. What would happen if he touched? He wanted to touch so badly. His hand rose as he took another step.

  He was now at the platform’s edge. If he just leaned over….

  “Hey, anybody home?” The rattle of the screen door sounded like a machine gun. “You guys in there? Can I come in?”

  Crap. Rod flew back to the canvas. “Sure, Jerry. C’mon in, darling.”

  Hunter yanked his arm off his eyes and sat up, covering his erection with his forearms as he leaned forward. So he knew what was going on. Interesting. />
  Jerry sauntered into the room, planted a quick kiss on Rod’s cheek, and peered over his shoulder. “You working my guy to death, you bad boss?”

  My guy? Hmmm. “Barely got started. Nothing to look at yet.” He was shaking. A near thing. This was bad. The temptation was too much. Could he do this whole painting without ever seeing Hunter again? Not likely, but maybe he could get the majority completed and then have just one more session. Maybe Jerry should come. Nah.

  “Just some black lines now. Is that how you started my paintings?”

  “Yep. Hey, who’s minding the store, darling?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I got called in to wait tables tonight, so I left the info sign in the booth.”

  “I’d better get over there.”

  “Sorry for the short notice. But guess what? I sold a painting!”

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah, to Bill. He came in and saw the little painting you did of me and bought it. Cool, huh?” He shrugged and grinned. “I gave him a discount since he’s your boyfriend and all. I figured you’d want me to.”

  Shit. “He’s not my boyfriend, but the discount was fine. I would have done the same.”

  “Who knew that a math teacher made so much dough, bro? Jeez, that painting wasn’t cheap.”

  Rod struck a pose. “Cheap at twice the price, darling. It was a Roman.”

  “Hey, did you like my painting?” Jerry looked up at Hunter, who’d barely moved from the edge of the daybed, though his boner had vanished.

  Rod sighed inwardly. He sure hadn’t been thinking about promoting Jerry. He shook his head. “I haven’t shown him yet. That’s my pièce de résistance.”

  Jerry looked confused for a second, then smiled. “I know where it is. I’ll get it.”

  As Jerry went to the paintings stacked against the wall, Rod slowly raised his eyes, meeting Hunter’s ice-blue gaze. For an instant there was some understanding just out of reach. Then Hunter stood, grabbed the robe from the clothes tree, and put it on. “Did you find it, Jerry? I can’t wait to see it.”

  Poof.