Burning Truth, page 9
Trent looked over at the judgmental Tilda and her cronies to make sure no one fainted.
She looked horrified, and that’s when he kissed Angel on the lips.
§ § §
News spreads like wildfire in small towns, and the more salacious the better, so later that night as Trent and Angel arrived at Sally’s Dive word of their upcoming nuptials had found its way to the guys sitting around the bar. Familiar faces, all of them, most of them from the firehouse. Trent saw Austin and Tucker and made a beeline for them. Sitting next to them was Ellis Van Pelt.
“Well, if it isn’t the happy couple,” Tucker said, “Do I hear wedding bells?”
“At the moment, I think that’s just a ringing in your ears,” Trent said, sidling up the bar.
Sally Curtis came over to the edge of the bar, extended a hand. “I’d come around the bar and hug you but the leg is acting up. Best I can do is shake your hand and get you two a couple of beers on the house.”
Trent accepted her handshake, Angel following suit. “We’ll take you up on those beers.”
Two bottles were produced and soon a toast was raised.
“Makes for another interesting publicity angle for the calendar,” Ellis said.
“Yeah, speaking of, that photo of Joey on the front page of the Gazette…” Trent said.
“I had nothing to do with that,” Ellis protested. “I don’t leak my own stories.”
“Slimy Kent Crandall, he was hiding in the woods, following them for scoop,” Angel added.
“And I found it, didn’t I?” said a fresh voice to the conversation.
“God, even Beetlejuice doesn’t appear unless you say his name three times,” Austin said.
Kent grinned his amusement as he insinuated himself into the crowd of firefighters. “This day just keeps getting more interesting,” he said, “First, Joey Silva’s name…or should I say his chest, is on everyone’s lips, and now the buzz is, Trent, that you and Angel are getting hitched. Shame you two didn’t give me an exclusive, you know how I like to pump up the boys of the WPFD.”
“Not the only thing you pump,” Tucker said.
“Really, juvenile humor? I’m just doing my job.”
“Actually, Mr. Crandall, it looks like you were doing my job,” Ellis said. “I could sue for copyright infringement. That was a private photo shoot, the positioning of the model part of my artistic vision. It wasn’t for you to snap your own shot and publish it.”
“Public space, public viewing,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, that picture of that hunk has probably upped the pre-orders for your calendar, and isn’t that the point?”
“Probably upped your pumping, too,” Tucker added.
“Unlike all of you boys, I don’t play for the same team.”
“You don’t look like you play for the other team, either.”
“It’s lonely at the top,” Crandall said with a sneer.
All of the men looked down at the five foot seven reporter. “How would you know?”
Crandall was not a man easily dismissed by petty insults, and so he ordered a beer as if to say he intended on sticking around. Sally gave him one, waited for him to pay, watched to see if he tipped. He slipped a dollar on the bar and she snatched it up before he could reconsider. She knew her clientele’s habits, and Trent was guessing being a good tipper wasn’t one of his strong suits. Being around them must have pressured him.
“So, Austin, I hear you had a big surprise recently, care to share?” Crandall said, still in reporter mode.
Trent noticed Austin’s nostrils flare and his fists tighten. Whatever the surprise had been, it clearly hadn’t been a good one. “Fuck off, Crandall.”
“From what I heard, your long lost Papa showed up,” he said.
It was Tucker who intervened, saying, “Kent, don’t go there.”
“Why not? It’s a hell of a story, great human interest. Not only did your wayward father show up after twenty years being gone, he happened to be the poor sucker you rescued from inside that old abandoned building last week. How’s that for coincidence?”
“It was the house he grew up in, why should that matter?” Austin said.
“Well, for starters, it was uninhabitable. Did he say why he was there?”
“I told you, he’s not talking about this,” Tucker said.
“Was he the one who set the fire? Word has it, it was arson.”
Austin lunged at the compact man, extending his fists, only to be grabbed by Tucker and Angel at the last minute. They held him back while Trent took charge of Crandall and, pushing him away from the crowd, urged him to muckrake somewhere else. “I don’t get you, Crandall. What’s with the fascination with us firefighters, and not just our business but our personal lives? You got a thing for one of us, or maybe your house burned down as a kid and you never forgave the fireman who didn’t rescue your dog or whatever. But I’m sick of it and I’ve only just got back into town.”
“Yes, for a wedding, I hear.”
Trent gave Angel a look, and he nodded his approval. Trent unleashed his fist, the punch landing hard at the guy’s gut. He doubled-over and a trail of beer-scented spittle hit the floor just before he did.
“I wouldn’t go looking for an invitation,” Trent said.
Crandall held his stomach as he keeled over again. He made a quick exit. Tucker and Austin decided to call it a night, and made a fast retreat from the bar with a thank you to their friends. Ellis said he had an appointment, too, and so he cleared out shortly afterwards, leaving Angel and Trent to their own privacy. They ordered a second round and again clinked glasses.
“That was so macho,” Angel said.
“Loser deserved it. I’m surprised no one’s decked him before.”
“Oh, they have, almost weekly,” Sally said.
“No, I meant tonight,” Trent said.
As Sally went to help other patrons, Trent took a sip of his beer. He felt Angel’s hand on his knees, rubbing it slowly, sexily. He smiled at his hot lover, saw the expectant look in his fiery eyes. He flashed his dazzling smile, which had Trent leaning in and kissing him. The scrape of beard sent a shiver of desire through Trent’s body, a sudden unleashing of heat going to his loins. He ran a hand across his goateed-chin, slid it down to his open shirt, where he fingered the gold medallion he always wore. A brush of his exposed chest hair had Trent’s cock thickening and he realized if they kept this up he’d be walking out with a raging hard on.
“Don’t get me started,” Trent said.
“Uh, I think it’s too late for that.”
“And what are we supposed to do, go back to Ma’s house? Mrs. Keane may be keeping her company, but I’m not sure she’ll stick around long enough for us to have our fun.”
“So why go home?”
Trent grinned, excited at what he might be suggesting. “Why Angel Montero.”
“The Highway 50 is just up the hill,” he said.
“That dirty old place? You’re a neat freak, you’ll hate it.”
“You’ll protect me,” he said, “like I said, you were pretty macho tonight.”
They drained their beers and made their way out of the bar and into the cool night. Spring had still not taken hold here in the Adirondacks, and the two men clung tight to each other as the moon guided them up the incline that led to White Pine’s notorious roadside motel. It wasn’t the first one they’d ever been to, he supposed it wouldn’t be the last. Angel told him to wait outside as he got them a room, and he returned soon enough with a key dangling from his fingers and a smile upon his face. Number eight, near the end of the long, rectangular building.
Angel opened the door, held it for Trent. “After you,” he said.
Trent entered the sparsely decorated room, heard the door close behind him followed by Angel’s strong arms enveloping his body. He felt his breath at the nape of his neck as Angel’s fingers went for the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them, one, another, until he pulled back the folds of his shirt to expose his hard pecs, his tight abs. Trent felt hands run down his smooth chest, a gentle caress, his touch loving, his breath hotter still. Trent groaned aloud, emitted a cry as Angel found his nipples and pinched them.
“Oh, Angel,” he said, “I love how you touch me.”
Angel tightened his hold, pressing his crotch against his ass, his hand wandering down to feel the bulge inside his jeans. He rubbed it, Trent feeling his cock grow, thicken. Unable to resist anymore, he turned, grabbed at Angel and kissed him passionately. Sensations ripped up and down his spine and he felt the scrape of Angel’s scruffy cheeks, his thick goatee. He grabbed for his shirt, quickly undoing it and ripping it off his shoulders. Angel stood back, smiling, as he showed off the thick carpet that swirled over his chest. Trent dug his hands into the plentiful fur, tongue finding nipples, nibbling them until Angel cried out with desire.
“Trent, take me to the bed, give me what I want.”
“Angel Montero, you surprise me tonight.”
“Good, keep the surprises coming.”
He kissed him, felt his thick cock inside his pants. “Not the only thing coming.”
They shed the rest of their clothes, and allowed their hot, heated bodies to fall to the bed. They kissed and they touched, caressing bodies smooth and hairy, drawing each other in tight, so close they were nearly one. Trent had never felt more attached to another man, this man, the one he would share the rest of his life with, the one his mother approved of. It was as if that seal of approval had brought them even closer, and so Trent readied himself for entry.
What surprised him was the fact Angel lay on his back, his hairy legs positioned, open.
They had supplies at the ready, they always did, condoms and lube, and Trent slid the former down his hard cock while slickening Angel’s place of entry. He wondered if they would ever not use them, so committed were they, but such questions would have to wait. For now, Angel was hungry for his cock, his ass puckering, and Trent’s cock was pulsing with the rare excitement of getting to play the top. Not that Angel wasn’t versatile, but usually he played the dominant, aggressive role, Trent a willing partner to his whims, his wishes, his violent thrusts.
Lifting Angel’s legs, running his hands down coarse, dark hair, he pushed his cock for its initial penetration. He locked eyes with Angel and he saw the fire in his eyes, the heat building. And then slid in, almost as though Angel were sucking him in close, locking him in a prison he had no desire to escape from. He pushed again, this time his entire cock being engulfed within Angel’s ass cheeks. Trent’s patch of blond pubes tickled at Angel’s ass as he gave that one final push, and then he began to rock, to thrust, his breath increasing with each powerful surge.
“Oh yeah, oh yeah, Trent, baby…do me, do me hard.”
Trent continued to pound at him, his grunts growing louder as passion filled his cock. He suddenly dropped Angel’s legs, felt them immediately wrap around his smooth ass, drawing him in until his cock was buried deep. Angel cried out, begging for more, more, and Trent thrust at him, once, twice, hard and fast, ramming him now. He was on fire and he had no wish to douse its flame, he just kept the heat bubbling, threatening to boil over. Hands planted on Angel’s hard chest, he felt the silky hair, rubbed it and grabbed it, all while increasing the motion of his fierce thrusts.
“Fuck yeah, fuck….oh, Trent, lover…let me feel you come.”
“Not yet, not yet…oh fuck not yet…”
Trent’s desire was unleashed, unrelenting, incapable of being harnessed. He felt the sting of sweat in his eyes but he did nothing to wipe it away. His hands were busy toying with hard nipples found beneath furry flesh, and his cock was thrusting so hard, so fast, he felt as though time had come to a standstill, and only he and Angel existed, and their orgasms were lost to the world as well, so that left only fucking, only thrusting, and he kept at him, harder, harder still.
Angel cried out, loudly, his sound shaking the walls. “Oh, oh…”
Trent reached down and grabbed at Angel’s cock, pumping it, waiting for its explosion.
He felt the heated pulse, he felt the rush as that hard, thick cock released its load. A burst, another, another, all of them strong and filled with milky come, shot forth, each one landing on Angel’s chest, the contrast of light against his dark forest suddenly too much for Trent to handle. He felt his own orgasm building, and he rushed at Angel harder, thrusting until he was ready to explode. At the last minute he pulled out and quickly rolled off the condom, and with one last stroke of his burning cock his tip grew, his cock spit forth a wad of come. All of it blasted like a rocket into the air, splattering against Angel’s chest as well, the two of them sealed now not only by love but by their seed, mixing and mingling, giving birth to forever.
Trent fell back against the bed, breathing heavily. Angel stared up at the ceiling, his eyes unblinking. Neither said a word, and had they, they might have missed the sounds emanating from the other room. A creaking bed, the pound of a headboard against the thin, adjoining wall., accompanied by loud, eager thrusts, cries of pleasure, both participants clearly men. Seemed the Highway 50 Motel was seeing a lot of hot action tonight, and Trent and Angel both remained quiet as their neighbors indulged in what they had just experienced, enjoyed.
“Oohh, ooh….owwww, fuck, that thing is so huge, yeah, fuck me you hairy beast.”
Whoever it was talking, he was loud, his voice carrying into neighboring rooms, no doubt the outside too. Whoever was fucking him so hard didn’t seem to care, as his grunts grew louder still, the pounding he was giving intense, heated, eruptive. Trent found that he was hard again, and he looked down at Angel, and he too was, both of them turned on by the sound of others having sex so near them. With a ready smile, Angel slid on top of him and guided his cock at Trent’s waiting mouth, sliding it in. He shoved it all in just as Trent reached up to run his hands over Angel’s lush chest, suddenly wondering if the man in the other room was really such a hairy beast as he’d claimed during the throes of passion, hairier than his own sexy animal.
He’d find out soon enough.
A siren suddenly pierced the sex-drenched night, louder than the grunts coming from the next room. Instinct told Trent what that sound meant, and Angel knew it too. He pulled his cock out of Trent’s hot mouth, the two of them exchanging a regretful look of coitus interruptus. The wrong kind of heat was consuming some place in White Pine.
“The fire whistle.”
Just then he heard a commotion from the other room, no longer sex, just fumbling, raised voices.
“Sorry…duty calls,” came a deep voice.
Trent got up out of bed, made his way over to the window. Peering through the closed blinds, he saw the door next door open, and out rushed a half naked man, carrying his shirt as he ran to the sporty little car parked in front of room nine. Had his photograph not been in the newspaper Trent might not have recognized him at first, but there was Joey Silva in all his burly, furry-chested glory, trying to button his shirt while unlocking the car door.
The fire whistle continued to ring, a lonely wail on a dark night.
If there was a fire in White Pine, why was Joey going?
A sudden pang of fear washed over Trent, as he realized Joey was always listening to the radio. If a call had come in for assistance from Honor Hills, he’d be the first to action, even if it meant he had to interrupt what sounded like a hell of pleasurable diversion. As Joey raced off, his Mustang screeching as it turned onto the highway, Trent finally saw the man he’d been with, standing on the front sidewalk, wrapped in a terrycloth robe. His hair was disheveled, a look of dissatisfaction on his face. It was Ellis Van Pelt.
But Trent couldn’t concern himself with the affairs of others right now.
Somewhere out there, a fire raged in White Pine.
Part Two
The Truth They Deny
Chapter Eight
Austin
Orange flames lit the night sky, like the sun had melted and coated the horizon in its fiery glow. Fire engines raced through the otherwise quiet night, their shrill sound an alert that all was not right with the world within White Pine, as it was yet again in danger from a fire that threatened to alter it. As the first responders arrived, what they saw was an inferno the likes they hadn’t seen since the devastating fire that not only shut down the Lucky Scent Factory but that of the life of Chief Paddy Rodgers.
The irony was awful, the timing even worse.
Nearly a year to the date, and it was the Lucky Scent Factory that was once again ablaze.
Austin had been on duty when the initial call came in, an anonymous caller whose voice was muffled, perhaps a bad connection his first thought, suspicion fast giving way to the fact the caller was intentionally disguising their voice. When pressed, he, or she, he couldn’t tell, refused to identify themselves. All they told Austin was this:
“The Lucky Scent Factory is on fire. You can already smell it in the air.”
Then the connection was broken, and Austin sat there at the dispatch desk, stunned.
Then instinct took over as he rang the warning bell and the station house came alive.
Now, not just fifteen minute later, the White Pine Fire Department was crashing through the gate of the old, abandoned factory, watching as towering flames licked at the sky, firefighters leaping off the truck even before it came to a halt. Chief O’Connell immediately started barking orders at everyone. Austin and Dickey began to unravel the hose, working in tandem as assigned by the chief. Just then the hook and ladder engine pulled in behind them, an able-bodied Nick hopping out of the front cab, with Topher and a few of the volunteers behind them.
The scene immediately became one of controlled chaos, but it was clear nonetheless that reinforcements were in need. The unstable structure took up the size of an entire city block, and while it hadn’t been in use since even before the first fire there might be old chemicals leftover inside that, when combined with fire, could combust and lead to the dangerous situation of fire balls. Chief O’Connell was on the radio, screaming orders amidst the wail of the sirens and the flashing of red lights. It was late night but with the swirling lights and the roar of the flames, the sky gave off the appearance of dawn at its crest.
