At last he was done fucking, done coming, and he slipped his still hard cock out, falling back onto the bed in sheer exhaustion. Sweat covered his body, leaving the dense fur of his chest and back matted, looking somehow furrier. He stared up at the mirrored ceiling, catching his breath but smiling over the satisfaction of what had been a major fuck session, one of the best he’d had a long while, and then he stared at the compact man who’d allowed him such free reign on his body. He looked smaller in the mirror, and for a moment Joey felt a hint of remorse at how hard he’d fucked him.

  He hoped he hadn’t hurt him.

  “You okay?” he asked when finally he could talk again.

  “Fucking better than okay,” Ellis said. “God, I can’t believe what we just did…I mean, it took you forever to come. I think my ass is going to need a day to recover and that’s not good, because we’ve got work to do.”

  “Right, tomorrow’s the photo shoot,” Joey said.

  “Yeah, right now I’m so grateful Tucker called me and asked if I’d help out,” he said. “I mean, I had no idea the fringe benefits that would come with the job.”

  “Is that what I am, a fringe benefit?”

  “More like a furry benefit,” Ellis said. “They sure grow them big here in the mountains.”

  Joey leaned in, gave Ellis a surprise kiss.

  “What was that for?”

  “It’s not something I usually do, kiss.”

  “You just like to fuck,” he said.

  “Keeps things at a certain…”

  “Distance?” Ellis suggested.

  “Is that okay?”

  “When the photo shoot is over, I’m gone. White Pine a distant, but pleasant, memory.”

  Joey nodded. “Well don’t leave too quickly, there’s a few positions we haven’t tried just yet. We’re only now starting to say hello.”

  Ellis slid in beside him, running his hand over the dark, matted hair of Joey’s chest.

  “Trust me, Joey, if what you just gave me was saying hello, I can’t wait for your goodbye present.”

  With that, Ellis climbed on top of him, rubbing his ass against Joey’s flaccid cock until it started to grow hard again. Planting his hands on Joey’s chest, fingers lost in the dark whorls, he rocked back and forth. Joey stared up at him, smiling through his thick beard. It was hours till midnight, a day until the photo shoot for the calendar, which meant neither man had anywhere to be, any obligations to fulfill other than those that existed between them now.

  “How about this position,” Ellis said.

  “Ride me,” Joey said, his voice deep, suggestive. “Ride your furry beast.”

  Ellis did, sliding down on that thick cock until it filled him, the pain of entry giving way to the pleasure of his upward thrusts. They moved up, they moved down, pounding, ramming, all while time clicked without them noticing. They went at each other all night long, moonlight peeking through slits in the blinds, its silvery glare caught in the mirrors, and while they rocked and gyrated and pumped, while they rode the warm waves of unquenchable desire, the effect of the light made it seem like there were more than two men in the room, Ellis’s thin body doubled, tripled in the reflection, Joey like a pack of furry wolves tearing hungrily at their prey. Like the mirrors captured photographs of the here and now, fiery experiences that would be relegated into memory, the silver effervescence of the moon acting as a flash.

  Chapter Ten

  Trent

  After the security breach that occurred during the location scout for the calendar, the firefighters of White Pine decided the photo shoot needed to be done in utmost privacy, free from the prying lens of slimy Kent Crandall and perhaps other curious onlookers. And it was Trent Rodgers who came up with the ideal spot, and it was there he was headed now, Angel at his side.

  “Brilliant idea, actually,” Angel said.

  “My father’s cabin,” Trent said. “Isolated, private, and appropriate.”

  “Where you and I first made love,” Angel said.

  “Actually, we did it outside.”

  “It was warm,” Angel said.

  “No, it was hot.”

  Leaving behind Angel’s sporty Porsche, they had packed up Trent’s old truck, which he had left in his mother’s driveway during his time away, and now, packed with provisions the two men headed into the rugged mountains beyond White Pine, taking Highway 50 as it wound its way around switchbacks, the air growing thinner as they eventually peaked on a jutting cliff far above the village. You could still see the expanse of the Paddy Rodgers Memorial Bridge, and the layout of the village streets, but it looked more like a model set, something a boy would play with. But there were no boys today, not as Trent pulled into the nearly hard-to-find entrance to Paddy’s Place, the driveway marked by a small wood sign and a slight clearing in the dense trees that encased the isolated property. Up the winding drive they drove, and when they pulled up beside the rustic cabin he saw they weren’t the first to arrive.

  “Austin, Tucker, you early birds get the worm?”

  “Just thought we’d help get things set up,” Austin said.

  “Ellis just called, he says he’s running a bit late, but he’ll get here,” added Tucker.

  So the four men set about unpacking the truck, bringing the day’s food and drink into the fridge. Trent felt a wistful pull at his heart as he entered the cabin for the first time in months, almost as though he expected his father to emerge from the bedroom, fishing pole in his hands and waders up to his knees, ready to show his son the sport of fishing. It was only his ghost he imagined, though, warmth created by the cabin having been locked up all this time. Opening up all the windows, he let the fresh air of the mountains waft through and help clear out the winter’s residue. Angel and the guys grabbed beers and headed back outside, Angel grabbing at his hand first.

  “Take your time,” he said. “I know you’re thinking of your Dad.”

  “Thanks, Angel. Man, did your parents name you right.”

  Paddy Rodgers had been Trent’s lifeblood, his reason for existing, and not just biologically. From an early age Trent had worshipped his father, watching him lead the charge in putting out fires, riding in the gleaming red fire truck that all boys seemed to admire, Trent more so because it was Dad behind the wheel. He’d listened, he’d learned, and after turning eighteen he’d joined the force, gone through the academy, and finally lived his dreams, fighting fires besides his old man. He missed his father, and of course he always would, but somehow being back here in the cabin he’d built all seemed right in the world. His mother was home and recovering nicely from her fall, and Angel and he were planning their futures together. The Rodgers family moving on.

  On a table beside the ratty old sofa, Trent saw the photograph that had been there for so many years dust covered the glass, and he reached over for it. He and his father, both of them proudly wearing T-shirts proclaiming White Pine Fire Department. Trent always thought he had never looked more like his father than in that photo. He smiled at Paddy’s bright, florid face, rubbed it with his thumb as though he could feel his presence.

  A creak of the front door brought him out of his reverie.

  “Hey, sorry to disturb you…you okay?” Austin asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. This place brings back lots of memories.”

  “Your father was a great guy, he gave me my first chance when I wanted to volunteer.”

  “He knew raw talent when he saw it.”

  Austin extended a hand, Trent accepting it. “That means a lot. Good that you came back to White Pine. We’re better for it.”

  “You’ve grown a lot since I was last here, Austin. You and Tucker?”

  “Things are good, but not as serious as you and Angel.”

  “And how do you feel about that, me marrying Angel?”

  Austin shook his head. “No worries there, Trent. What he and I had, it was…”

  “You can say it. Just sex. Trust me, I know Angel is highly sexual.”

  “But what you two share, it goes deeper. I hope I get to have that kind of relationship.”

  “Give it time.”

  Austin pulled at his beer, run a hand across his unshaven cheek. “When Ellis showed up, I thought for sure he was interested in getting back with Tucker—did you know they dated back during Tucker’s rock and roll days in L.A.?”

  “I heard mention of it,” Trent said, remembering the night of the Lucky Scent fire when he saw a half-naked Joey Silva running out of Ellis’s room at the Highway 50 Motel, recalling before that moment the sound of two men in the throes of some major-league screwing. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about there, Tucker seems pretty devoted to you, and Ellis…he has as wandering eye.”

  “Yeah, guess I was just worried his arrival might make Tucker consider a return to his previous life. When you’ve lived such a decadent life, the world of White Pine can seem awfully boring. He’s assured me he’s going nowhere, and that I’m his priority.”

  “See what I mean, devotion.”

  Austin nodded, gazing around at the cabin. “You’re lucky, Trent.”

  “Why is that?”

  “All those years you had with your father, that bond you shared. I never had it.”

  “From what I’ve heard, you’ve got a chance now to right yesterday’s wrongs.” Trent waved the framed photograph his way. “A father and son always have a chance as long as both of them are still around and willing. It’s a lesson that I learned the hard way. As wonderful as Paddy Rodgers was, his only issue with me was my being gay. It became less of an issue later, and then suddenly it became a non-issue because he was gone. Did you know I’ve asked Chief O’Connell to officiate at mine and Angel’s wedding?”

  “Tucker told me, that’s great.”

  Just then a siren pierced the quiet of the mountains and Trent realized they had company. The rest of the guys were coming via fire engine, so they could have the needed accoutrements for the photo shoot—hoses, gear, axes, the engine itself serving as a backdrop for the various poses Ellis would no doubt require of them. Trent set down the photograph and said, “Guess it’s time to get to work.”

  “Hey, Trent, thanks for your advice, you know, regarding my father. I’ll have to consider it, if not just for me but for my mother. I’ve haven’t seen her this happy in years, all she does is flit about the house, cooking and cleaning and attending to Allan’s…my father’s needs. I’m not comfortable with him around, but I also don’t want to deny my mother happiness after so many years alone.”

  “Right now don’t force anything, it will play out how it’s supposed to.”

  Austin leading the way, Trent emerged into the bright sunshine of the noon sun, just as the engine parked in the open lot, avoiding the scrape of the low-lying pines. Chief O’Connell hopped out, assisting Dicky Tenders down from the cab. Dicky would be fine, as he’d suffered only from smoke inhalation, nothing more serious. Austin went over and shook Dicky’s hand.

  “I’m sorry, man…for the night of the fire.”

  “I’m good, kid, it’s all good. Clean bill of health from the docs.”

  Chief O’Connell nodded his approval and too shook Austin’s hand. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  “Now let’s get this fool venture over and done with. Where is that photographer, and for that matter, where are our brothers from Honor Hills?”

  While they waited for the arrival of those missing, Trent invited the guys to partake of lunch, indulge what they wanted, or just take a rest on the porch. While Dicky and Topher and the Chief dug into the buffet, Trent noticed Nick Lynch sitting by himself on the edge of the porch, and while he stared ahead at the forest that surrounded the cabin, he looked like he was miles away. Nick and Joey Silva, last Trent had known, had been a bit of an item, and either he didn’t know about Joey and Ellis or perhaps he suspected it. How awkward this afternoon could be with everyone in attendance. Too many raging hormones, too many back-stories. Trent wondered if he should say something to Nick and ultimately realized it was none of his business. They barely knew each other.

  “Everything okay?” Angel asked, sliding in behind him.

  “Yeah, I think so, just Nick. He’s a bit of a lost puppy today. Hey, let’s take a quick walk, I want to see the view of the valley from up here,” he said, taking hold of Angel’s hand.

  Slipping away undetected, they ducked under the copse of trees and followed a worn, pine covered trail down the steep hill. Winter had done its usual damage, leaving the grass worn and brown, but with each passing day spring grew stronger, the sun brighter. Nature would do as nature did, blooming into full vibrancy, soon to set the Adirondacks ablaze in its verdant glory. Trent and Angel emerged out from under the trees, coming to the edge of a cliff. It was a steep drop down to where the Iroquois River cut through the canyon.

  Trent breathed deeply, feeling the mountain air energize his lungs.

  “It’s so beautiful up here,” he said.

  Angel wrapped his arms around him, kissed the back of his neck. “You’re beautiful.”

  Trent could feel the press of Angel’s cock through the material of his slacks. “Uh, I don’t think we have time for that,” he said.

  But still he spun around and kissed his lover, and he felt Angel’s hands slide around to his ass, cupping the tight cheeks. His own cock responded with heat, with that fascinating rush of blood and desire that coursed through him anytime Angel touched him. Angel kissed his neck, the rough scrape of an unshaven cheek, his thick goatee, sending hot sensations through Trent’s body. He knew he was powerless to stop Angel from whatever he wanted. Falling to his knees, Angel then unzipped Trent’s jeans, sliding them down legs with a light coating of blond hair. Trent’s hard cock popped out, ready and eager.

  Angel took hold of the shaft and guided it across his goatee, eliciting heated groans from Trent.

  “Oh, God, you want me to blow immediately?”

  “We don’t have much time,” he said, looking up with a wicked smile.

  “Then you better get to work.”

  Angel took the shaft into his mouth, Trent feeling the warm rush all the way down to his toes. Sliding it in, out, and back again, Angel sucked on it with such determination he knew his blast would come sooner rather than later. Holding onto Angel’s shoulders, hoping for his knees to not buckle, he closed his eyes and allowed this indulgence to consume him. As he felt the heat begin to boil inside his balls, he started to thrust his hips forward, urging himself on as much as did Angel’s insistent sucking.

  “I’m close,” he said, “so close…”

  When he opened his eyes he noticed that Angel had unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the black thicket of hair on his chest, ruffled now by the light wind. The medallion caught the gleam of the sun, and for a moment Trent was jealous of the jewelry, embedded in that sexy nest of hair, wishing it were his fingers or his tongue, but it didn’t matter in the end because he suddenly unleashed a load of white come, and both of them watched as the splatters formed strings of goo deep into his chest hair. Angel smiled as he fell back on his ass, and Trent laughed as his knees gave way from the powerful rush.

  “Uh, were you planning on having your photo taken like that?” Trent asked.

  “Your come splattered all over my chest hair, that’s something I’d like a photo of.”

  Trent kissed him, ruffling the furry mat. “You don’t need a photograph of it, you’ll get the live version anytime you suck me off like you just did.”

  “Come on, let’s get back,” Angel said, “or they’ll come looking for us.”

  “True, and if we stay longer, what they’ll find is you fucking me.”

  Angel kissed him. “When the photo shoot concludes, let’s stay the night.”

  “We’ll make love all night,” Trent said.

  “Now I really do need to get cleaned up for the photo shoot,” Angel said, “You just made me shoot my load in my pants.”

  § § §

  The photo shoot was about to launch, nearly two hours since Ellis had arrived alongside the men of Honor Hills. Ellis had needed a lot of set-up time, checking the angle of the sun, the glare, the shadows that came off the trees, adjusting the lens of his digital cameras. Trent knew nothing about the technology but he knew the advances in photography were many, and Ellis seemed to be well prepared, modern with his hardware, old school when it came to how he liked his photos to look.

  Ellis rounded the men up, and they all stood in line in front of the cabin.

  Chief O’Connell stood first, followed by Dicky, Nick, Austin, Tucker, Simon, Topher, Angel, Trent, Joey, and lastly, Chief Silva. Eleven of them to fill the first eleven months of the calendar, with the last month devoted to the memory of Chief Paddy Rodgers, which Trent had already spoken to Ellis about. He and Trudy said they would like to choose the photo to be used, and Ellis said he had no problem with that.

  “Okay, men, if no one has any objection, let’s go in order, by month. I’ll call on you, get you ready. From what I see before me, we’ve got a great looking bunch of men, sturdy, studly, a type for all tastes. Some of you I may put in more suggestive poses, while others will help keep our project G-rated…well, PG-13. Any objections, voice them, but otherwise, let’s have fun while we remember the reason for it. Okay, Mr. January, Devon O’Connell—our esteemed chief from White Pine, I guess you’re up first.”

  The Chief was dressed in his finest blues, and Ellis shot him while in various stances near the fire engine, stepping out of the upper cab, in front of the gleaming silver grate, beside the White Pine Fire Department logo on the door. It wasn’t hard to get a smile out of Devon, since when off duty he was as genial as an Irish gabber, so Ellis kept shooting pictures, telling him he was great, he was a natural, give me more of that Cork County charm. Finally, after ten minutes the chief was relieved of his modeling gig, and he wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow.