Fire & Ice

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Ian's cold past meets Paolo's heat.
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Author's Notes: This is a copyrighted work of fiction written by Tucker McCallahan. All rights reserved by Tucker McCallahan. If you are reading this story anywhere but at Literotica or the author's personal blog then it has been posted without permission. Please report plagiarism to: tuckermccallahan-at-gmail-dot-com.

My toes were completely frozen; I couldn't feel them at all inside my steel-toed boots. Stupid choice, but the Doc Martens looked tuff with the rest of the outfit, and like a true fag, I sacrificed comfort for fashion. I drew the line at the fingerless gloves, though. Those were just too homeless, too grunge-ago for me to even bother trying to pull them off. Besides, it was really fucking cold out here, and my fingers were numb inside the black leather Thinsulate driving gloves I wore.

I stood in a field. That's what it was, all pretenses aside, a big field out in the middle of Nowhere Pennsylvania, where a decent crowd of about three dozen gathered as the witching hour drew ever nearer. A bonfire burned off to one side giving us both heat and light, though there wasn't nearly enough of either to suit me. The booze flowed freely, and a blue haze of cigarette smoke bolstered by other, thicker smoky textures hung around the crowd of post-adolescent men and women milling about, waiting to be dazzled. We all waited for the appearance of Paolo Strakos.

"He'll be pissed about the fire." Denny whined at us, the emo mop of his black hair falling into his eyes as he dashed a frantic glance at the bonfire.

"Too fucking bad," one of the rugby boys growled, hands shoved in his letterman's jacket. "It's fucking cold out here."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you." Denny's nasally whine was so goddamned annoying even I wanted to smack him.

The black Escalade rolled up, chrome spinning, windows dark, old Nine Inch Nails blasting that Trent wanted to fuck us all like animals. I shivered. That song always gave me a semi. The driver's side window hummed down and Denny went scurrying over like the little bootlicker he was, that stupid haircut of his all but blinding him as it flopped into his eyes again.

"I told them," Denny whined loudly. He stumbled back as whoever drove shoved him hard. He dashed a hand across his lip as though checking for blood, of which there was none, but he was a total drama queen. He slunk back up to the window. After another quiet exchange he returned to us, shoulders hunched, looking like a thoroughly beaten dog, though that's not what I saw.

But on to that in a moment.

"He says you have to put the fire out or he's leaving," Denny said, authority in his voice. "And then everybody has to get into rows of six people, just like I said the first time."

The grumbling was pronounced, but the jocks moved to douse the bonfire with the water from the coolers and the snow that was still deep in the shady areas. The rest of us dutifully lined up, and I jostled my way to a spot in the first row. This was far from the first time I'd come to one of these little midnight soirees. As a matter of fact, I was a regular repeat attendee, which disturbed me on a visceral level. I only knew that I was tired of the club scene, tired of the bar scene, tired of one night stands and anonymous fucks, and I wanted to see something exciting, wanted to see something that really proved there was more to life than fast food and reality TV.

Paolo Strakos was all the proof I needed, and I kept coming back for more.

Denny was in his element, now. He loved this, his time to shine. His eyes were fever-bright, and his lips were swollen, though whether that was from him chewing on them or from the driver of the car smacking him no one could tell. He actually had the balls to put his hands on several of the jocks as he moved them from one line to another, snarking at them about their inability to count to six. God he was getting bold. Then he slipped on a patch of snow and stumbled into the girl next to me. Righting himself, his warm hazel eyes met my light green eyes, and for a moment, Denny looked at me like he knew. His gaze sharpened, then softened, then grew as frosty as the temperature around us, his hazel eyes narrowing suspiciously. His brown nose snapped up and he twitched his tight little ass back over to where the bonfire was being summarily dispensed. I did my best not to laugh at the little twink.

The great hissing rush as the water and cold snow hit the bonfire was immense, billowing clouds of steam blasted up towards the night sky and obliterated everything. The stench of wet wood, stale water, and old, damp earth was amazing, and I held my breath for a minute to let it pass. The doors on the Escalade opened, though the interior lights did not come on. Two sets of feet thudded against the frozen ground, clearly audible over the popping of the dying bonfire. As far as dramatic entrances went, the extinguishing of the bonfire couldn't have served as a better audio-visual aid for Paolo.

A tall, dark figure, very lithe and graceful, next to one even taller who hulked over him moved through the steamy darkness to come and stand by Denny's side. The hulk looped one arm around Denny's waist, and I swear I heard the rush of Denny's breath as he inhaled sharply, then the moan as Denny disappeared from my strained vision only to reappear a moment later, his lips bright and puffy, obviously kiss-swollen. Unexplained, unreasoned jealousy swarmed over me and I tried to tamp it down.

"All right, Paolo is here and he's going to do one demonstration. Just one. If he stays afterwards, no questions. Anyone who bugs him gets banned from coming back, got it?" Denny was almost forceful now. Amazing what a little tongue can do for a shy boy. I fought the need to reach down and readjust my cock in my tight leather pants. Five minutes ago I'd been freezing. Now my skin was on fire, my heart raced, and my breath came in little pants.

Denny walked a short distance away with the driver from the Escalade, and I could see enough to know that he was being thoroughly groped and well kissed. Good for Denny. He needed it. Insatiable little power bottom would end up a real pig if someone didn't take him in hand and treat him like the bitch he was begging to be for somebody.

My attention wasn't on Denny and his stupid antics anymore, though. Now that the fire was gone and the headlights of the Escalade winked into nothingness, the only light we had to see by was the half moon and the stars, which were unusually bright out here in Nowhere. A tall wisp of darkness within the night, his black hair gleaming under the moon and his dark eyes catching the starlight like ebon gems, Paolo stood before us, his hands clasped in front of him as though he prayed. The group of us stood in our lines the way Denny arranged us, utterly silent.

Paolo dressed all in black: bondage pants, heeled boots that buckled to the knee, a black shirt the clung to his torso, and a long, heavy, Australian Outback-style leather trench coat. He had black hair that curled riotously around his ears and face, faunlike, thick and luscious. What he didn't wear in the icy weather was a pair of gloves; his hands were bare. He took a long, slow deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with it. My pulse sped. I'd watched this so many times. I was addicted to this man and I didn't know why.

At that instant, his head snapped up and his dark eyes locked with mine. His hands came up in that prayerful pose and his odd, raspy voice whispered the same word he always said.

"Hořet."

He pulled his hands apart and once again, Paolo Strakos cupped pure blue flames in his hands. Only this time he did it while staring straight into my eyes. My heart raced, my blood pounding frantically through my vessels. I wasn't sure how that was possible. I thought all the blood in my body was in my dick; it felt like it was going to bust right out of the front of my jeans.

The people around me applauded and did the oohing and aahing thing. I didn't. I stood there and stared at Paolo. Usually after he created fire he held it in his hands and then made it disappear. Once, and only once, the very first time I came to see him, he made the flames get taller, bigger, and brighter until I didn't think he'd be able to hold them anymore. Then like it was nothing he smothered them in his hands and they vanished.

Tonight as he gazed into my eyes, he held the dancing blue flames and as I watched, he balanced them on one open palm. Reaching into the flames with his free hand, he twirled his fingers and drew up a completely separate second flame that he pulled free and held in his other hand. He brought his cupped palm up to his mouth. Aiming his open fingers in my direction, he gently blew on the smaller flame as if blowing a kiss and murmured, "Pro vás."

The fire billowed out toward me and the audience like the tongue of flame from a fire-breathing dragon. The heat of it was wonderful in the frigid night. The girl next to me shrieked and stumbled back, breaking the lines. Several others around us did the same thing and their frightened voices filled the empty night. For some ridiculous reason, I walked forward into the flames, completely unafraid. Tremendous heat bathed my face, a caress of light and warmth that left me harder than I'd ever been in my life.

The world went cold and dark once more as the flames died away. I opened my eyes. Paolo stood before me, his hands closed in prayer once more, his dark eyes dancing. We were all of two feet apart. The left corner of his mouth quirked up in the most adorable half-smile. Naughty, mischievous, and utterly wicked, that little smirk on his face almost made me cream my jeans. He extended one of his hands to me and lifted his chin in invitation toward the Escalade. Behind him I saw the driver and Denny canoodling together. I nodded and took his hand.

The driver, whose name I still didn't know, opened the back door of the big SUV and Paolo motioned for me to climb in. It smelled like leather and incense inside. I slid across the seat as Paolo crawled in behind me and the door closed. He never let go of my hand. I turned and looked at him, my heart thumping furiously.

"What's your name, milovaný?" His accent was odd and one I'd never heard before. God, hearing his voice did me in. I wanted him before; now I was desperate.

"Ian." I rubbed my thumb back and forth over his hand. His skin was incredibly soft. The Escalade rumbled to life and I sat bolt upright. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to my home." Paolo tugged me toward him. That devilish half-smile appeared on his face again. "You do want to go home with me, don't you?"

I cocked my head and gazed at him, giving him a look of my own. "Maybe. What are you going to do with me once you get me there?" I raised one ginger eyebrow. Paolo needed to understand that I wasn't Denny. I wasn't a bottom or anybody's bitch.

"You seek me wherever I appear."

"So?"

Swifter than seemed possible he pinned me between the seat and door. His thinness was a façade. He was built like an Olympic wrestler and his chest bulged with muscle as he pressed against me. Heat radiated off of him in waves and I basked in it, pulled it in, and sucked it up like some creature starved for warmth.

One scorching finger traced my eyebrow, my cheekbone, the bridge of my nose, the line of my jaw, and finally my lower lip. In that moment I felt so needy I trembled. My eyes had been closed while he gently touched me, but when he stopped, I opened them to find him gazing at me, those dark eyes alive with wicked intentions.

"You are as I am, and you possess srdce z ledu, as it was written. I'm going to take you home so that you may meet my family."

Whoa! The mention of meeting anybody's family was like being dunked head first into ice water. I struggled upright though I didn't let go of his very warm hand. "Paolo... Look... You're super fucking hot and there's nothing I'd like more than to get to know you better... except maybe tear your clothes off, lick you till you beg, and fuck you till you come all over both of us. Twice." I grinned at him. But then my face turned serious. "But I don't do families. Not even my own."

Paolo stared into my eyes and sighed. "All right, milovaný. As you say."

He eased back and allowed me my space on the seat. The next thing I knew he slipped under my arm and pressed up against my side. His muscular body snuggled against mine. His heat enveloped me in a searing erotic bath of fiery warmth that sent my eyes rolling back into my head. He smelled so damn good I drooled like an infant and had to convulsively swallow. I placed our joined hands directly on my erection. I was so hard I hurt.

"I say you did this, and you should take care of it."

His scorching fingers fluttered over my fly and I squirmed. He looked up and me and grinned. "Ano, Ian, ano."

"What language are you speaking?"

"Czech. You'll learn it in time." His free hand slid up and cupped the nape of my neck, his fingers playing in my long red hair. He spent several minutes gazing at my face, as if he wasn't sure of what he was doing. Then he seemed to make up his mind. "Kiss me, milovaný."

My arms slid around him as his mouth met mine and I was gone. The Escalade disappeared; the whole damn world vanished when Paolo kissed me. He sucked the air from my lungs and devoured my lips, then fed my breath back to me in the kiss. I didn't need air; I breathed Paolo Strakos. The fire of his kiss scorched my lungs and his hands branded my flesh.

"Milovaný ..." Paolo whispered the word against my ear, his tongue dripping liquid heat along the sensitive ridge. I writhed against him. "Ian... we must stop."

"No... Please!" I had one hand down the front of his pants fisting his perfect cock as I licked and sucked at his supple neck. He chuckled.

"We're here."

I hadn't noticed when the Escalade started to move, so its surcease of movement was an even greater surprise. Damn it, I told him I didn't want to do this. I took ten seconds to button and zip my pants and hastily yanked my shirt and jacket closed against the cold. Then the back door opened and we climbed out. The house was an old sprawling mansion and not at all what I expected. Tons of people milled around and they all knew Paolo. He took my hand, threading our fingers together. As we entered the house and walked through the foyer side by side I realized I was slightly taller than he was, though not by much, maybe an inch or so. Paolo's presence was so commanding he seemed taller.

Strangers warmly greeted us with smiles, calling out in the Czech language. I didn't understand any of it, but Paolo answered them and several times lifted our joined hands to his heart, a radiant smile on his beautiful face. As we passed through a parlor done in cream and mauve with a tea rose pattern along the woodwork, Paolo slowed and then stopped. He turned to the corner and tugged until I turned with him.

"My grandmother," he said. "She prophesized I would find you."

I frowned. "How could she know such a thing?"

Paolo shrugged. "It's her way."

I glanced at the venerable old lady seated in a rocking chair. She had white hair and a face like a raisin, but her eyes were a clear glacial blue. She focused on our joined hands. Paolo raised them to his chest and pressed our joined fingers over his heart. Then he said something, a jumble of words in the Czech language that she answered with a rapid string of words and a laugh. Paolo blushed and nodded. He led me over to her and she grasped my free hand, turning it over and examining my palm. She smiled up at us and patted my hip, then said something to him that made him blush even darker. She laughed uproariously.

Paolo tugged me through the next room to a staircase. I assumed we would go up to his bedroom, so when he opened the door that obviously led down to the basement, I frowned. We descended, passing several more people who spoke to him. I couldn't believe so many people were inside the house and said so.

"This is our clan home." Paolo led me down into what appeared to be a large workroom. Groups of men and women sat at tables working with wood and other materials. They crafted beautiful instruments. I was amazed to see all the things they produced in this one tiny workshop. Paolo led me across to the room to a huge, heavy swinging door. He heaved it open and motioned me inside.

The room was little more than a box with concrete walls, ceiling, and floor. A concrete altar of sorts occupied the center of the room. I gazed around, confused. Paolo shrugged his heavy leather coat off and patiently waited for me to remove mine. Then he took our coats and set them outside the door before closing it. The room was completely dark until Paolo lit a small lamp.

"What kind of room is this?" I asked.

"It's a kiln. The original owner of this house was a gifted sculptor, and this is where he fired his pottery."

"You mean we're inside an oven?"

"Will you truly not allow me to make love to you?" Paolo gazed at me, his face beautiful in its seriousness.

My eyebrows shot up. I folded my arms across my chest. "OK, that was an abrupt subject change. I'm up for almost anything here. I'm really into you, Paolo. But I'm a top. I don't bottom. Ever. And this?" I motioned around the tiny concrete room. "This is kind of weird."

"It's necessary to protect my family."

"I don't get it."

"I possess srdce ohné. You've seen my gift, felt it."

"But that's just a trick..." My voice trailed off at the look in his eyes. My heart pounded.

"You know it is not. You did not seek me, week after week, in one location after another, to witness a trick." He slowly took the four steps separating us and his hands parted the fabric of my shirt, baring my chest. I looked down to see his shirt hung open, his chest covered with a gorgeous dusting of silky black hair that curled as enticingly as the hair on his head.

"I don't know why I came to see you." I ran my fingers through that bounty and loved it when he shivered.

"We are meant for each other. Oheň a led. Fire and ice." He pushed our chests together and his hands dropped to my ass. God, the man drove me crazy! Burying his face in my neck he chewed and bit as his hands kneaded my ass. I had to get out of my jeans or I was going to end up with zipper marks permanently etched into my dick.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You're crazy hot, though, and if you want me to rock your world I'm here to do it." I gasped as he left a deep bruise in my flesh.

"You must yield to me, milovaný." His tongue licked a trail of fire along my collarbone. My damn knees were weak.

"Paolo, I'm a top; that's just how I get down." In less than two seconds I had his pants open and his dick in my hand. "You won't regret it, baby. I promise."

"You're devilish." His eyelashes fluttered as I stroked a pretty impressive piece. "And I will let you do whatever you wish to me. After I make love to you the first time."

"Yeah, that isn't gonna happen. But like I said, totally willing to do it my way."

"I would deny you nothing. Can you not bend and meet me halfway?"

"No." I let go of him and pulled my hand out of his pants. This wasn't how I wanted things to go at all, damn it. "I can't."

"You must." His dark eyes searched my face. He looked lost and not a little bit confused. "It's the only way."

"Why?" I jerked back from him, a little angry that he kept pushing this.

"Because I will die otherwise."

"OK, that's ridiculous!" I stormed over to the heavy door and hauled it open. I furiously fixed my shirt, knowing I buttoned it crooked and not caring. I reached down and swiped up my coat. I didn't get hot in my anger, but cold, icy cold, as if all my feelings dropped down under a thick layer of frozen fury. I glared back at Paolo, who looked ready to be sick.