Fire Balls

by Tara Lain

  Slow and easy, Rod caressed satin skin and rock-hard erection. Hunter moaned, hot as hell. He pumped hard into Rod’s hand, seeming to need this badly. Hadn’t Jerry taken care of him? Shit. No thinking about Jerry.

  Rod slipped his finger back between the spread cheeks and found that waiting hole. Oh yeah, inside. Just a little. Wiggle. A little more.

  “God, yes!” With a heave, Hunter pushed back hard. Sweet Jesus. He was going nuts fucking on Rod’s finger like mad. “More, please.”

  Yes, more. He threaded two more fingers inside that hot hole, and Hunter pushed harder. “Oh God, please, please.”

  Sweet heaven. Rod stopped pumping, grabbed a condom, ripped the package with his teeth, and rolled the thing one-handed onto his own straining hard-on. A quick shuffle into position. “This what you want, darling? Want me to fuck you ’til you can’t sit down?”

  “Jesus, yes, just get it in.”

  He positioned and thrust as hard as he could. No gentle buildup. Hunter was desperate. And, oh God, Rod was too. The heat hit his cock first and then his head. Like flames in his brain. He thrust hard. Harder. Like a wild man while Hunter yelled his approval. Fuck, fuck. Fuck!

  Rod reached around and began to pump Hunter’s cock again. Hunter wrapped his big, long-fingered hand around Rod’s, forcing him to rub harder.

  Hunter threw back his head, sweat flying off his dark hair. “Oh shit. Too much. Too great. Oh never stop fucking meeee.” Hot semen spurted into Rod’s hand again and again as Hunter shouted. “Sweeeeet.”

  Holy shit, Rod had just made Hunter Fallon come. That was it. The hottest idea on earth. Oh God. Heat filled his head, then fire shot up his spine and out his cock in gushes sweeter than poetry, filling the condom in Hunter Fallon’s gorgeous ass as their two bodies sank down to the daybed.

  Chapter Six

  HIS COCK was just softening from the most perfect orgasm of his life. Yeah, but nothing else felt perfect. Not a good sign. What was it? Oh yeah. The trembling, bone-stiff log lying under him.

  He had to get up but, damn, he didn’t want to. Getting up meant facing the music, and right now every cell in his body was humming a happy tune. When he got up, his heart would break and spill its contents all over his life. He’d fucked Hunter, and nothing would ever be the same.

  Hunter shifted. Rod sighed, rolled off him, and asked, “Can I get you something?”

  Hunter shook his head, still lying on his stomach.

  Rod eased off the condom. Soggy and limp, just like this situation. He got up and went to the bathroom, dumped the rubber, and warmed a washcloth under the tap. When he returned to Hunter, he was upright, sitting on the edge of the daybed, arms on his knees and head hanging. Rod sat beside him and reached out to wipe Hunter’s cock, but Hunter seized the cloth and began cleaning himself.

  Well, shit. “It’s okay. You can tell him I seduced you.”

  “Who?” Hunter glanced up briefly. “Oh, Jerry.” He stared at his hands again. “No, it was my fault. I don’t know why I did it.” He raised his head. “I didn’t mean it that way. You’re so beautiful, but I just don’t usually have sex with men I don’t know.”

  Beautiful? Okay, trying too hard. “I suspect you’ve been masquerading as a top at the same time you’ve been doing your firefighter impersonation.”

  Hunter’s head jerked up this time. “What? Whaddaya mean?”

  “I happen to know that Jerry prefers to bottom.” He held up his hands. “Because he’s told me. That means you’ve been topping him, and I’m willing to bet you always do. It’s the Greek syndrome.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The Greeks and even the Romans condoned male-male sex as long as it was between an older, more powerful man and a younger one. You know, a twink. It wasn’t okay for the dominant male to be penetrated. It was demeaning. You’re a bottom in a top’s body. People expect you to be dominant. Hell, you expect you to be dominant, but it’s not who you are. You probably don’t get turned on much by topping. So when I topped you, it was natural to submit. You enjoyed it.”

  Hunter was staring at Rod like he’d grown an extra head.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to pontificate.” Rod grabbed his clothes from the floor and started pulling on his pants commando.

  Hunter jumped up and grabbed his stuff from the chair. If there were prizes for getting dressed in record time, he got the trophy. “I gotta go.”

  “I know.”

  “Sorry you didn’t get much work done.”

  Rod didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “There were compensations.”

  The man of his dreams left the way he’d come.

  A BLOCK from the studio, Hunter pulled into a half-vacant parking lot and turned off the car. He examined himself in the rearview mirror. His normally clear blue eyes looked bloodshot.

  What the fuck had he done? He dropped his head on the steering wheel. And who the fuck had he done it with? Run, hide. Shit. Rodney Mansfield. Roman. Great artist. Flaming queen. Yeah, a pretty damned dominant flaming queen. One who had ridden his ass to an ecstasy he’d never experienced before. If he were honest, ecstasy he hadn’t known was possible. Never. He shook his head. Never.

  He couldn’t be with a guy like that. Hell, he loved Jerry. Okay, no, he liked Jerry. But Jerry was all the things Hunter wanted: handsome, personable, a guy’s guy. Jerry said he wanted to go to fire science school. They’d have even more in common.

  Tears pushed behind Hunter’s eyes. He shied at the sting. What the hell? One fuck from that queen, and he was crying like a little girl.

  Oh God. What had he just thought? Whose idea was that? Had he just demeaned a man for being gay?

  He took a deep breath. Okay, Rod was right. Hunter had wanted to know what it was like to bottom. Rod had been the first in a very long time, and Hunter responded to the experience. That was it. That was all. The painting was practically finished, and he didn’t have to see the guy any more except from a distance. That would be better. His folks were coming. He couldn’t wait to introduce his dad to Jerry.

  THE SCREEN door squeaked. Damn, who the hell was it now? Every person through that door had ended up being bad news.

  “Hey, Rodney.” David’s voice, thank God.

  “Hi, darling, in here.” Man, he needed a friend. He rushed toward the door.

  “Hi, sweetheart.” His best friend came straight to Rod and wrapped him in a hug. “Missed your face. How’s you?”

  “Otay.” Rod put on his best simper, but he wasn’t quite feeling it.

  David held him at arm’s length. “Seriously, are you okay?”

  Rod shrugged and went back to his easel. “Pretty much. How was Santa Barbara?”

  “Wonderful. Had to leave the boys. It’s finals week so they can’t get away, and the gallery here needs some attention. I’ll drive back up early next week. So what have… bloody hell!”

  “You’re starting to sound like an Aussie.”

  David was gazing at the painting. “Jesus, Rod, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Rod sighed. “Yeah.”

  “Say it’s for the gallery.”

  “It’s for the gallery.”

  “No shit? Darling, that’s wonderful. I’ve got at least three clients that will pay top dollar for it. My God, I’ll have them bidding against each other.”

  “It’s all yours.”

  “I’m so excited.” David clapped his hands. The girlish gesture contrasted with the tall handsome man, but it was sooo David. “You know what you should do?”

  Rod painted in another touch of white to add more gleam to the top of the thigh. “Umm?”

  “You should take it to the festival and display it. Not offer it for sale. Just whet their appetites. It’ll attract more buyers to the show.”

  “Oh, are you doing a show?”

  “Hell, darling, with this piece, how could I not? I’ll pull in works from one or two complementary artists, but you’ll be the star, and this w
ill be your masterwork.”

  “Thank you, dear.”

  “So who’s the guy?”

  “A local firefighter. He’s pretty sensitive about no one knowing who he is, so I don’t think you’ll get to show him off at the opening.”

  “Does he really look like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Amazing.”

  “Yes.”

  David never took his eyes from the painting. “Are you in love with him?”

  “Yes.” In one huge sob, pain burst out of Rod’s chest. No, he didn’t want this. But too late. Tears ran down his face.

  David gathered Rod into his arms. “Oh no, this isn’t good. Is it that bad, sweetheart? Is he partnered? I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “He has a boyfriend. And, oh God, David, I helped get them together.” Rod’s shoulders shook. He asked for little in his life. Worked for everything. His only passion was painting. Why had he let this foolish, unrequited, fucking miserable love into his life? Now he couldn’t shake it off.

  David walked Rod over to the couch and sat him down, then cuddled beside him. “Now why would you get him together with someone else?”

  “Jerry really wanted him?”

  “Jerry? Our Jerry?”

  Rod nodded.

  “Darling, Jerry’s a great guy and I adore him, but a man who would love you would not likely love Jerry.”

  “I know.” More tears escaped.

  “Now wait.” David gave Rod a little shake. “I mean a man who loves Jerry is probably not a man with the intelligence and discrimination to love someone as special as you.”

  “Special?” He sniffed. “That’s another word for weird.”

  “Hey, c’mon. You don’t usually sell yourself short.”

  “Short!” More tears gushed out.

  “I’m saying a guy you should love is not likely going to prefer Jerry to you. Does this man think you’re weird?”

  More sniffs. “He told me I was beautiful. But he was just trying to get away.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “Right after we had sex.”

  David threw himself back on the couch. “Holy shit, Rod, I’m gone a little while and all hell breaks loose.” He leaned forward again. “Look, if this guy would have sex with you and go back to Jerry, he’s clearly not the one for you.” He wrapped his arm tight around Rod’s shoulders.

  The embrace felt good. Comforting. David was so great. Rod had helped get David together with his two Australian lovers, and they were an ecstatic ménage. Maybe a little of their luck would rub off.

  “Let’s get started on the giving-up-firefighters program,” David said briskly. “The painting is gorgeous. Perfect. Let it dry, and I’ll take you to lunch. Then we’ll plan how you’re going to hang it at the festival this weekend.”

  “Sunday is the special night for community leaders and city workers and staff.”

  “I know. A perfect showcase. Now let’s get over the painting and the man.”

  Rod nodded. “Otay.” Better not mention the portrait hidden in the back.

  “SO, JERRY, Hunter tells me you’re going to become a firefighter like him.” Hunter’s dad wiped a little tomato sauce from his lip. They were arranged around a big table at the back of an Italian restaurant, with Hunter beside his mom.

  Next to Hunter’s dad, Jerry leaned back in the comfortable red chair. “I’m sure I’ll never be as great as Hunter is, but I’d like to be a firefighter, yes sir.”

  “It’s a great profession for a young man.”

  Hunter watched his dad and Jerry enthuse about firefighting. Of course, neither of them had ever done it. He smiled. He’d figured his dad would love Jerry, and his prediction had been verified. They’d hit it off instantly. Surfing, football, basketball. Hunter had done all that shit in high school. College, even. He was good at it, but it had always mattered more to his dad. He expected Dad and Jerry could talk for hours, but they had to get to the festival. “You guys about finished with that lasagna?”

  His mother smiled. “Yes, come on. I’m anxious to see the art show.”

  His dad laughed indulgently, winking at Jerry. “Gotta keep the lady happy with a little art and pretties, I guess.”

  Jerry, bless him, didn’t pick up on his dad’s insensitive remark. “Oh, you’ll love the festival. The art’s gorgeous. You can even see some paintings I posed for. My friend Roman did them. Man, he’s talented. You’re going to be amazed.”

  That got his mom’s interest. “You’re an artist’s model, dear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “Of course, you’ll see a bit more of me than you can right now. Hope you don’t mind.”

  She patted his hand. “That will be just fine.”

  Hunter’s mom had a wicked sense of humor. People said he took after her. Dark hair and pale eyes. He’d gotten his dad’s height, though that was hidden in the wheelchair.

  Hunter left money for the bill, stood, and helped his mom from her chair, then started around to help his dad.

  Jerry jumped to his feet. “Hey, I got it. Can I help?”

  The happy-puppy Jerry got a big smile from Hunter’s dad. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  Hunter stepped aside to let Jerry push the wheelchair toward the door of the restaurant. His mom walked behind them, and Hunter brought up the rear. “I thought we’d walk to the festival grounds. It’s just a couple of blocks. Then we don’t have to move the car. It’s such a nice night.”

  Jerry pushed the wheelchair hard and ran a couple of steps. “Hey, we’re up to this, aren’t we, Matt?”

  His dad hardly ever let anyone push him. Too independent. Jerry was a force and hard to resist. “You surfers need the upper-body exercise, right?”

  “Yes, sir!” His dad and Jerry chatted away.

  They left the restaurant, stepping out into the dusk. Hunter loved the big temperature change between day and night in Laguna. It kind of gave you two seasons in one.

  Mom put on her sweater and took his arm. “He’s a charming guy.”

  “Yeah, I was pretty sure Dad would love him.”

  “They’re two of a kind.”

  That gave him a warm glow. If his dad could see that Jerry was like him and yet Jerry was gay….

  “The question is, dear, do you love him?”

  “What?”

  “I know your dad thinks he’s great, but is Jerry the man for you?”

  He looked down into her pale blue eyes, very like his own. She was still so pretty. She’d been the catch of the county as a girl, and his dad had done the catching. Then he’d had the accident, so she’d dedicated her life to making a home for him and their two children. Fortunately they’d had enough money, but it had still been a bitch of a life.

  “I get the feeling you don’t think he is the guy for me,” Hunter said.

  “I’m not saying that at all. I just don’t want you to build your father’s life for him. You have one of your own to worry about.”

  He patted her hand. “No worries, Mom.”

  She huffed. Yeah, she knew him. He led her across the street toward the festival as Jerry pushed his dad at top speed, both laughing.

  Chapter Seven

  “IT’S A masterpiece, Rod. Everyone on the festival grounds is talking about it.”

  “Thanks.” Rod smiled up at Bill. “Thanks for coming tonight too. I’m not shy, but making small talk with the bigwigs gives me the willies.” He shuddered. “And of course I give them the willies with my paintings.”

  For a second Bill looked blank. Then he caught the joke and smiled. “Bad boy. Evil Rodney.”

  “I’m Roman here, darling.”

  “Love the new do, Roman.”

  Rod grinned. “I thought purple was appropriate to the occasion.” He swept long, purple-tipped bangs out of his eyes with the flourish he thought defined him. People wandered by, glanced at the nude of Hunter, gasped, stopped, and stared. He’d already had three offers for it, just as David had
predicted. Rod referred the potential customers to David and told them there would be a showing. Great publicity.

  Bill glanced around. “Have you seen Jerry?”

  “No. I don’t expect him tonight. You bought his last painting, and he’s not really interested in the rest. Don’t get me wrong. He’s my biggest supporter, but he doesn’t love art by nature.”

  Bill smiled. “No. I wouldn’t think so. But he sure is a work of art himself.”

  Well, son of a bitch. “Hey, I didn’t know you had a thing for Jerry.”

  Bill shrugged. “Lot of good it would do me if I did. What with Hunter and all.”

  Rod sighed. “Yeah.”

  For a second they both stared into space before Bill wandered off to look at some more of the art. Rod didn’t think Bill liked art all that much either. It had been good of him to come tonight just to keep Rod company.

  “Pardon me.” A lady who looked like she might be from the Midwest stepped into his space.

  He turned to her with a smile. “How can I help you?”

  Surprisingly, she turned out to be an art gallery owner from San Francisco who had come as a guest of Laguna Beach’s mayor. They talked a few minutes and exchanged cards. Great contact.

  When she left, Rod watched the dignitaries from the city and even from Sacramento wander by. Not many engaged him in conversation. An obviously gay guy with purple hair who painted nude men was a bit too much of a hot potato for most of this collection of politicians and alpha males. Some of the teachers and professors stopped to chat. The painting was a universal success.

  “Hi, sweetie.” Heidi peeked around the edge of the display, then came up and gave him a robust hug. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be the star of the show. I’m glad you’re wearing my earrings so everyone gets to see them.”

  He fingered the six gold hoops, each set with different gemstones. “Only the finest, darling. You know that.”