Spark & Blaze (A Guns & Hoses Novel) (3 page)

The memory assaulted Brett the moment he laid down in bed.

He had been shooting pool for over an hour. He hadn’t dumped any money into the table since the first dollar fifty. He half-assed sandbagged the games against several guys, none of which sparked his interest.

Brett was chalking his stick when he noticed a regular he had seen a few times take a seat at the bar. Come to think of it, every time he had seen the man, the guy had been sitting on the same stool. His back was to the pool table were Brett always scoped out his potential tricks.

Why he noticed the guy, was beyond him. The man wasn’t even his type. He was too broad and looked to be too close to Brett’s height and age.

“Breaking my balls,” the twinkish guy who had put quarters in the table and racked said while he walked around the table.

Like Brett hadn’t heard that line before. He didn’t reply, but instead broke the loose rack. The younger guy he played, flirted throughout the whole game, but Brett wasn’t interested. The guy was just too small, looked easily breakable, even though Brett knew the twink likely fell into the mid to late twenty’s age range that he preferred.

Brett had just sunk the eight ball when he felt his cell phone vibrate in his back pocket. He straightened up from the shot and politely declined his opponents offer to take a trip to the men’s room.

Brett fished his phone out of his back pocket and swiped the pattern that would unlock the device. A Grindr icon was right next to the small F for Facebook and an envelope for email in his taskbar at the top of the screen. He pulled the menu down and tapped the Grindr message.

Next to a picture of a beautifully hard cock that sported a Prince Albert was one word. ‘Interested?’ The cock was pretty, but it was the guys handle that sealed the deal. TPACUFFS.

Brett wasn’t into kink, but only because the opportunity to explore the realm of kinky sex had never presented itself. It seems now it has.

“Sure,” Brett answered the message.

“Bathroom,” TPACUFFS replied.

“Two minutes,” Brett responded.

The pool table was almost directly in front of the restrooms. Since he was still standing next to it, he would have a clear view of whoever TPACUFFS was when the man went to the bathroom for their hook-up.

Brett’s Grindr profile picture showed him from the chest up. His muscular chest was clearly defined even though Photoshop allowed him to cover himself in just enough shadow to hide his identity, but not obscure what he had to offer. TPACUFFS might be able to recognize him when he passed, but even if he did, Brett wasn’t concerned.

When the regular he had noticed earlier walked by on his way into the restroom, Brett originally didn’t think anything about it. However, when the man paused in the archway to the bathrooms looked him dead in the eye, grinned, and winked, Brett’s gut clenched and he felt positive that the guy had a Prince Albert in his dark slacks.

Less than a minute later Brett pushed through the men’s room door and didn’t stop before pushing open the door to the handicap stall. He was right. TPACUFFS was the guy who met his stare. The guy was almost the same height as Brett and had sandy blond hair. His hazel eyes met Brett’s and Brett didn’t look away when he closed the stall door and blindly locked it.

Regardless of the guy’s body screaming ‘Top’ since TPACUFFS initiated the Grindr contact, Brett didn’t assume anything.

“What do you want?” Brett asked when he stepped close enough to touch. “Want to wrap your lips around my cock or do you want me to play tonsil hockey by using that ball in your Prince Albert as a puck,” Brett whispered and grinned when his words made the other man moan softly.

Brett enjoyed giving head just as much as receiving, so whatever the guy decided would be fine by him. Hands pawed at his waist and seconds later he was exposed and felt the hot palm wrap around him. He groaned and thrust into the first upstroke. Brett’s eyes never left the man who was tugging on his aching cock.

“You into kink? Carry cuffs or are they reserved for your bedroom?” Brett asked on a breath that was beginning to pant.

TPACUFFS grinned and in the blink of an eye, Brett’s cock was released, he was spun around, and pushed harshly chest first against the wall. A metal handcuff that looked way too real to have been bought at Todd’s adult store snapped around one of his wrists before the second one was latched to the handicap bar that ran along the wall.

Brett’s cock twitched hard. He wasn’t used to being manhandled and wasn’t sure he really liked it regardless of how his cock reacted. His hook-ups were always fit and strong, but always a little bit smaller and not nearly as strong as him.

The firm grasp on his cock returned at the same time TPACUFFS pressed into him from behind. Brett had to counter the man’s weight by bracing his free hand on the wall and pushing back. He could feel the man’s erection pushing against his ass, but didn’t worry about the guy trying to fuck him.

TPACUFFS stroked him and met each thrust of Brett’s hips with a downward stroke while his other hand wrapped around Brett’s chest and cupped a pec. It didn’t take Brett long to come all over the wall under the handicap bar. The moment his orgasmic shudder stopped, he was spun around.

TPACUFFS step back and pushed Brett down onto the toilet seat. He used both hands to undo his belt and open his pants. Brett didn’t even wait for the material of slacks to part before his free hand was digging into the black boxer briefs and pulling out the guys leaking cock.

He didn’t need TPACUFFS to guide his cock to Brett’s lips. The glistening that covered the Prince Albert was more than enough to spur Brett into action. Brett didn’t tease. Hell, he didn’t even take his time to tongue and play with the stainless steel jewelry before he dove forward and devoured the guy down to the root.

Brett’s free hand came up and massaged the tight sack that was still encased inside the boxer briefs. He felt hands rest on his head and felt fingers dig into his jet black hair. The hands followed his movement because there was no need to guide his head.

The feeling of the Prince Albert slipping into his throat made his soft cock start to fill again. If Brett’s other hand hadn’t still been cuffed to the handicap bar, he would have stroked his wakening cock to spur it more quickly back to life. As it was, he had only one free hand and there was no way he was going to stop squeezing the tight sack that was currently in his palm.

Brett felt that TPACUFFS was close when the man’s balls drew up tight. He swallowed around the Prince Albert again and waited to feel the cock in his throat pulse.

His head was yanked harshly off the cock that had been buried in his throat. The hands in his hair grasped his head and pushed his head back so roughly that a long stream of spittle was the only thing that connected him to the guy.

TPACUFFS swirled his hips a quarter turn and grasped his cock. He aimed toward the floor between Brett’s feet and gave himself one stroke before shooting jets of creamy white cum all over the dirty tile.

Brett was surprised and slightly disappointed that the guy had pulled out of his mouth and denied him the opportunity to swallow all the yumminess he was wasting on the floor. TPACUFFS was using one hand to brace himself against the wall next to Brett’s head while he caught his breath.

Brett shuffled a few inches sideways until he was clear of TPACUFFS arm. He pushed to his feet and tried one handedly to tuck his hard again cock back into his jeans.

The movement of his standing didn’t pull the guy’s attention away from where he was more than likely staring blindly at the floor where he had just shot his load. However, TPACUFFS attention refocused on him when Brett attempted to tuck himself back into his pants.

“Ready for more, huh?” TPACUFFS’ voice was orgasm-graveled and sexy as hell.

Brett looked down at his hard cock and smirked when he looked back up and met the guy’s hazel eyes.

“Looks that way, now. doesn’t it?”

TPACUFFS stuffed his semi-hard Prince Albert pierced cock back into his black dress pants and turned toward Brett. Brett figured this was where they parted ways. That was how these bathroom hook-ups worked. It was how the hook-up to get off game was played and Brett expected nothing more from the man. That was why he was surprised by what the man suggested next.

“Maybe we should continue this at your place.”

TPACUFFS dug keys out of his pocket and uncuffed Brett’s wrist before doing the same where the other cuffed was attached to the handicap bar. Brett watched the guy put the handcuffs behind his back while Brett tucked his hard on back into his briefs and zipped up his jeans.

“I’m Brett,” Brett introduced himself, but didn’t bother holding out a hand. After having the guys cock buried balls deep down his throat, there really was no reason to shake. Just the thought of it was ridiculous.

“T,” TPACUFFS replied. “Your place?”

It wasn’t often that Brett picked up a trick and took them home. Most of the time it was blow jobs, giving or receiving, fast and hard in the bathroom stall.

“I’m not a bottom,” Brett said because he wanted to make it very clear that if they went back to his place, it wasn’t because he wanted to be fucked.

“Me either,” T replied and grinned.

Brett didn’t have a problem with that. There were plenty of things they could do to enjoy each other’s company and get off several more times before the sun came up. Brett nodded and stepped toward the stall door. He unlocked it and left the bathroom. T was right behind him, so close that at one point Brett had felt the man’s hand on the small of his back while they pushed through the Friday night crowd. Once they were outside standing in front of Bradley’s, Brett gave T his address.

“See you there.” T smirked and walked down 7
th
Ave.

Brett only took a moment to appreciate the man’s broad shoulders, tapered waist, and the firm ass that flexed under the dark dress slacks before he started toward the car garage on 15
th
Street.

As Brett lay in bed, he pushed the rest of the memory of his hook up with Flame’s boyfriend out of his mind. Over the last year since he had hooked up with the guy, he had only seen him in Bradley’s a handful of times. The night they spent together was treated like an extended bathroom hook-up encounter.

When Brett woke up the next morning, T was gone and Brett was relieved. Fucking around with the guy was fun and the orgasms were great. However, a relationship wasn’t what their night together had been about and they were both on the same page when morning dawned.

“Shit.” Brett scrubbed his hands over his face.

His cock was hard from thinking about the memory of all the orgasms he had enjoyed that night. Brett didn’t want Flame’s boyfriend again, but he had no control over his body. The moment the thought that T,
Tig
, might tell Flame about the night they fucked around, which would effectively blow his closet door at work clear off the fucking hinges, made his cock wilt. Brett couldn’t even be relieved that his arousal had disappeared, because now anxiety had taken its place.

Chapter Three

Eva
n
spent his two days off doing a whole lot of nothing. He found a gym within running distance of his rented house which meant if he jogged to and from, he could remove the treadmill from his workout routine. He also went out to Bubbalouie’s to shoot some pool and socialize with some of the regulars he had gotten to know over the last couple of weeks.

Since he was from Gainesville and only moved to Tampa after getting hired at TFD once he finished the Fire Academy, he didn’t really have many friends. Between moving and getting settled, he just hadn’t had time to make new friends. Especially, since he was still trying to learn his way around Tampa and figure out the ‘hot spots’ to hang out.

He had heard that Ybor was the place to go if he wanted to party and he did love, absolutely love, to dance, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hit the party district on his own yet. It wasn’t that he had a problem flying solo to clubs. No, it had more to do with the fact that he was just settling in.

Evan had only been in Tampa for three weeks. He knew the area around his house in North Tampa and was thrilled when he stumbled across the bar and grill that also doubled as a pool hall. He loved playing pool almost as much as he loved to dance. Well, okay, no, that was a lie. He loved to dance more.

He should have just taken his ass down to Ybor and explored the area last night to find a good club to dance. Evan hadn’t been dancing since before Fire College and his body was itching to dance after the last four months.

Tomorrow night I’m going to scout a club in Ybor and dance
, Evan vowed with a sigh as he pulled into the firehouse parking lot. The emerald green Camaro SS with the black racing stripes was already backed into a spot and parked next to a jacked up F150.

Shit, Malone is already here
.

The only open space in the lot that wasn’t blocked off by an orange cone or marked reserved was right next to the sweet Camaro. Evan carefully backed his Ford Ranger in next to Malone’s Camaro and sighed.

Work today was not likely to be fun. He knew he needed to change the opinion his co-workers might have about him because of the shit that went down last shift. He also knew that the first step in order to make that happen would involve engaging Malone in conversation.

Malone was the last person that he wanted to be around. He was still pissed that the older firefighter prevented them from clearing the club Shadows. The news informed him that the patrons of the club had all made it out to safety before the building was totally consumed by the fire. Still, they hadn’t known that no one was still inside when Malone made them pull out. Evan was relieved when Bay News 9 reported that there were no fatalities, but that information hadn’t dampened his anger toward Malone.

Evan took a deep breath and hit the alarm on his key fob when he lifted his hand over his shoulder while he made his way toward the back door of the station. He stepped into the rec room that resembled a living room.

Two couches and two chairs were arranged to face a TV. The TV was an old tube type. Probably one of the last high-tech models before flat screens became the norm. There was no wall to separate the rec area from the couches and the kitchen. The only separation between the two spaces was a long wooden table with benches on both sides. There was plenty of room for the seven firefighters and the paramedic EMT combo that responded to the scenes in the ambulance.

No one paid him any mind when he entered the room. Shift change was always a bit chaotic from what he had experienced so far, so he wasn’t surprised when no one noticed him while he headed for the stairs that led up to the second floor where the bunks and shower room were located.

Evan was just about to drop his bag on top of an empty, unclaimed, bunk when a quiet noise made him turn. Malone was walking out of the bathroom area. He had a shaving kit bag in his hand and met Evan’s stare. Malone’s gaze was neutral, as if waiting to see what Evan was going to say before deciding on whether to frown or scowl. Evan said nothing while he watched Malone step closer.

Somehow, Evan had never realized how much larger Malone was than he. Of course, he had noticed that Malone had a few inches on his 6’, but his co-workers chest was almost twice as broad as his own. Malone’s biceps were equally large as were his thighs. The dark blue polyester work pants and the light gray TFR T-shirt did nothing to hide how buff the man was.

He hadn’t noticed their size difference on the first shift he had worked with the man. They had only barely interacted on medical calls on Evan’s first day and somehow it wasn’t until last shift when he saw Malone in his bunker gear, that he considered the man’s size.

Bullshit
, Evan told himself because he knew seeing Malone in his bunker gear had nothing to do with noticing how much larger the guy was compared to his own substantial height and frame. Malone hadn’t caught his attention, his scrutiny, until the shit that went down while Shadows was burning to the ground around them.

There was something about the older firefighter that made Evan feel funny when he looked at the man. He didn’t like the feeling, especially since he knew it wasn’t the feeling of anger that he believed he had a right to still feel where the man was concerned.

“You have something to say to me, Carmichael?” Malone’s deep voice broke through Evan’s contemplation of the man.

“Um,” Evan reminded himself that he needed to fix things with Malone about him running to the captain if he wanted to make sure the other guys didn’t treat him like an outcast. His career was just getting started and he didn’t need pissed off people that would result in burned bridges later.

“Yeah,” Evan continued after a pause that was filled with the noise of his bag hitting the rack. “I didn’t realize the scene was so critical when we were in Shadows.”

Malone didn’t say anything and just continued to stare at him with a neutral expression. Evan honestly didn’t expect a reply to what he said because he knew, deep down, that arguing with Malone in the middle of the nightclub while it was burning down wasn’t what he really needed to be apologizing for. Another breath and a sigh Evan couldn’t withhold, escaped his lips.

“Look, I really thought leaving the scene without clearing the floor was the wrong thing to do,” Evan admitted and Malone’s deep brown eyes shifted from neutral to stone hard.

Brett wasn’t sure what the rookie was trying to accomplish with his half-assed apology and explanation for his behavior. All the guy needed to say was that he was sorry and would follow Brett’s lead until he got enough experience to at least get past being a rookie.

“I’m not sure how long ago you went through the Academy,” Evan’s tone became defensive the moment he saw the change in Malone’s eyes.

Brett bristled. The little shit was younger than him and fresh out of the Academy, but how old did Carmichael actually think he was? Brett finished the Academy three years ago when he was twenty-nine and the implication that he didn’t know what was currently being taught to the rookies irked him all to hell.
Didn’t the asshole know they all had to take continuing education classes to keep up with shit?

“It wasn’t that fucking long ago,” Brett growled out. “Anything you learned and any changes to procedure, we’ve all been taught in our annual C. E. Classes.”

Evan heard the anger in Malone’s voice that was caused by his implication that the firefighter wasn’t up-to-date on the latest tactics of firefighting. He didn’t care. Deep down, he knew he should have given a shit, but his anger had locked onto him like the jaws of a pit-bull protecting her babies.

“Look asshole,” Evan spat out. “You were right to make us retreat from clearing the floor of Shadows.”

Brett interrupted and cut off whatever Carmichael was about to say next. “You’re damn fucking right I was and if you had half a fucking brain, you would learn to listen instead of argue when a senior firefighter tells you what the hell to do.”

Evan had no idea when Malone had gotten so close, but they were now standing almost chest to chest. That caused the feeling that had nothing to do with the man’s size to flood through him again. It added fuel to his pissed off fire.

“How else do I need to say you were right?” Evan yelled. “How fucking egotistical are you that you can’t even recognize an apology when it slaps you in the damn face?”

Brett stared down into Carmichael’s angry face. The rookie’s pale gray eyes blazed with fire and he was breathing harshly from his outburst. Seeing Carmichael so worked up morphed every bit of pissed off that flooded Brett’s veins into something else. Something unexpected and totally unwelcome. Arousal. He felt his cock twitch and start to harden. The longer he stared down into Carmichael’s furious gaze, the harder he felt himself grow.

Shit,
Brett cursed to himself before he laid into the rookie again.

“Fuck your apology,
rookie
.” Brett brushed by Carmichael, bumping his shoulder, and stormed off down the stairs.

“Fuck,” Evan cursed.

He had wanted to let Malone know that he understood why the senior firefighter had pulled them out of clearing the club. He also wanted to apologize for running to the captain when he thought Malone’s decision kept them from doing their job. He never got to that point, which was the more important part of his apology.

“Malone’s right you know.”

Evan’s head whipped around toward the door that led to the stairs. Flame was leaning casually against the doorframe.

“I was just trying to set things right.” Evan ran his hands through his sandy blonde hair before looking at Flame again. “I know I fucked up when I questioned him pulling us out of Shadows before we cleared the floor.”

“You did,” Flame agreed without any malice when he interrupted.

“I was going to apologize for going to Stevenson, but he didn’t even give me a fucking chance,” Evan continued in a pissed off tone.

The sound of Flame snorting made Evan narrow his eyes on the man. Flame was the only other firefighter aside from Malone who was taller than him. He was broad like Malone, but had a totally different personality. Flame was a happy-go-lucky sort of guy and always seemed to be in a good mood. The guy was just downright likable.

“So, give him some breathing room and talk to him again after the shift,” Flame advised. “I’m sure he’ll have calmed down enough to listen by then.”

“You think?” Evan asked and prayed his tone didn’t convey the hopefulness that he felt.

He really needed to set things straight with Malone if he wanted his career at this particular fire station to go without bullshit drama. Flame never got the chance to reply before the tones that called them to an emergency blasted through the building.

MVA, I–275 and Dale Mabry
, the voice overhead told them.

Flame and Evan darted down the stairs and into the bay where the engine and ambulance were already idling. All thoughts of Malone disappeared from Evan’s mind as he quickly dressed in his turn out gear, climbed into the rig, and adrenaline flooded his system.

The motor vehicle accident had two fatalities, then their shift went downhill after that. They responded to a suicide attempt that almost succeeded by the time O’Malley and Sanchez got to the woman. After that call, they barely had an hour of downtime before being called to a high school fire.

The science lab blew up and the whole scene was like something out of a nightmare. There were teenagers unconscious and they all had varying degrees of burns. Medevac was called in for more than one of the victims.

It wasn’t even dinner time yet, but Brett doubted anyone had an appetite. He sure as hell didn’t. In fact, he didn’t even want to look at food after seeing some of the burns those teenagers sported.

Brett shook his head to clear the images and stripped out of his bunker coat. He wasn’t even going to bother removing his pants because the way the shift was going, he would just be stepping back into the fuckers soon. It seemed he wasn’t the only one that had that pit in the stomach feeling because after he hung his coat on the hook with his name, he noticed several others heading inside still wearing their turn out pants.

“Malone.”

Brett looked toward where Flame stood in the kitchen. The guy was cradling several bottles of cold water in his arms. Brett gave him a nod and held his hand up. Flame tossed him a bottle and after he caught it, he rolled it across his sweaty forehead before cracking it open and drinking down half of the bottle in one go. He flopped down on the couch next to Brostowski, laid his head back, and closed his eyes.

Fuck, I’m tired,
Brett thought and brought the bottle to his lips to kill the rest of the water.

He needed more so he forced his tired ass off the couch. Brett was just removing another bottle from the fridge when Captain Stevenson came out of his office. The captain’s face looked grim while he looked around the room. Brett knew that look. The captain had an update on the high school fire and Brett knew the captain was going to tell them one of the kids didn’t make it. Still, he hoped that those weren’t the words they were all about to hear.

“Where is Carmichael?”

Brett was sure he wasn’t the only one doing the confused blink-blink shit because that question wasn’t what they expected. He scanned the room, along with everyone else, and realized the rookie wasn’t in sight.