Hanging the Chimney Hook
All Rights Reserved © 2020, Rick Haydn Horst
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter Fifteen
Tucker asked to accompany Wade when he left, but we managed to convince him that he would only get in the way at the scene. The rest of us stayed with him, and we hung about in Albert's quarters as he had comfortable furniture. Max clung to the visibly upset Tucker for quite a while, allowing his mind to process what had happened. Even without hearing from the fire inspector, we knew someone had torched his home. Tucker had had a rough life, apparently abused as a kid, and I could only imagine that burning his home felt particularly victimizing and violating.
Everyone living near Tucker on Sweet Basil Lane had gone to see the fireworks, so the flames had fully engulfed the home before anyone noticed. The fire department stood by at the fireworks show, as anyone should expect, but even with it on standby, it took time to get there. Whoever set Tucker's house ablaze had picked the perfect moment.
I think I understood why Tucker's avuncular lawyer had helped him. Life deals a bad hand to some people in this world, often from birth. In some ways, I grew a bit protective of Tucker that night, and since I had hired him, I considered him one of us, so I had even more reason to not let the culprit get away.
Albert's quarters lay in near darkness, apart from one torchiere left on low. As Albert slept in his bed, both Tucker and Max had fallen asleep on the couch with Tucker's lightly snoring head in Max's lap. I sat in one of the chairs, sleepless and thinking. Grateful that I had placed my phone onto silent mode, I received a text from Wade just after 2:30. He asked me about Tucker, said he wanted to talk to me, and needed some laundry detergent, so I crept into the hallway, retrieved a couple of detergent packs from the stash in our quarters, and took the elevator to where he awaited me in the locker room. In the silence of the ground floor, he had slumped against the lockers, looking exhausted. Apart from the ring of relatively clean skin left from having worn a mask, his sooty arms, face, and clothes caused him to smell like a chimney sweep.
"That bad?" I asked.
"Yep. I know that I have a rule about talking business here, but it's unavoidable for the moment, and we're alone. Tucker lived in an older house that went up like a matchbox. He rented it from a landlord who owned several properties on the street. I'm sure the house had insurance, so the owner will recover, but Tucker has lost everything."
"Well, that's not quite true," I said. "Tucker now has something he's never had before. He has you, and he has the three of us. Losing everything is devastating, but we will make sure he lands on his feet."
"I would hug you for that, but I wouldn't want to get any of this on you. Of course, we must wait for the fire inspector to investigate the scene to determine the exact cause and origin of the fire, but it worries me."
"Why?"
"Because Tucker left his Jeep there," he said. "He parked it right next to the house, and that burned too."
It only took a moment to realize what he was telling me. "I see. Depending on where the fire started and how they may have believed he was home."
"Exactly. And if so, it means they've changed their goal. We thwarted their previous plan to have him arrested, and they've killed twice before; maybe they figure they should just kill him and be done with it." He spoke with derision, but his expression told me just how much that worried him. He unbuttoned his shirt to undress.
I considered his suggestion for a moment, and a possibility occurred to me. "That may be the case; however, I think another possibility exists that's more probable."
"What's that?"
"Thanks to the photo in the paper, the killer thinks Tucker has the ring. I doubt he would burn the house without first giving it a good ransacking. So, he would know that Tucker wasn't home."
He looked relieved. "Then our plan caused this."
"That's thoughtful of you to take some of the responsibility," I said, "but the plan was mine."
"It became mine too when I went along with it," he said, "and I still think it could work. If what you suggest is true, then that would prove they still want the ring, but perhaps they had a Plan B, so, in lieu of having him arrested, they destroyed all he owns."
"Maybe. Let's see what the fire inspector says."
"They're going to have a tough time with it. A huge section of the roof collapsed."
"How have you gotten so dirty? You'd think you were a fireman."
"I helped the fire department as much as I could," he said.
"You're more than just a little sweet on Tucker, aren't you?"
"You would have to know him as I do. I find it astonishing that anyone would pass on the Tucker I know, just because he's so big. But then, hey, their loss is my gain, right?"
He removed the rest of his clothing, and I couldn't help but admire his tight swimmer's body. Since I hadn't cum in several hours, I felt the tickling sensation under the head of my cock, and the blood starting to fill it caused a tightness in my pants.
"Please, do me a favor and wash these." He started wrapping his clothing in a way that I wouldn't get anything on me. "I wouldn't want Tucker to see me like this or smell it on me and my clothes."
"Sure, no problem." I looked up, and he stared into my eyes.
"You were looking at me, weren't you?"
"Should I apologize?"
"I thought I wasn't your type. I mean, Max has a unique appearance and a lot of muscle. I'm fit, but not nearly so big."
I shrugged. "A handsome naked man is standing in front of me; I'm going to look."
He smiled. "I appreciate the compliment. Let me get cleaned up; I look like I've been shoveling coal. If you think it's necessary, wash that on hot, will ya?"
At the washing machine, I received a text from Max wondering where I had gone.
TEXT:
[Wade returned, and he's filthy. He asked me to bring down some detergent and wash his clothes while he gets cleaned up. He's given me an update. I'll be up in a bit. Just so you know, I have an erection problem. Are you okay? How's Tucker?]
REPLY:
[I'm fine but sleepy. Tucker remains asleep in my lap, and I don't want to wake him. How bad is the house?]
TEXT:
[Tucker lost everything at the house, including his Jeep. Get some rest, Honey Bear. I love you.]
REPLY:
[I love you too. You need some relief, and I'm okay with Wade helping you since I'm indisposed.]
TEXT:
[Are you really okay with that? I'm not so sure he would be willing.]
REPLY:
[Among our little group of five, it's fine when I'm not available. I know how it is for you, so don't let yourself go. Trust me, he would love to blow you.]
TEXT:
[Thanks, Honey Bear, I'll see what he says.]
I pried my cock from my pants, and it felt so stiff it almost hurt. After I left my clothes on the washer, I padded over to the door of the shower room, where I saw Wade scrubbing the pore-clogging grime from his lean muscular body. When he turned to rinse off, he noticed me standing in the doorway, my cock towering well above my belly button.
"Uh-oh," he said. "Looks like something's come up."
"Yeah, Max thought you and I should discuss it, and if you enjoy the topic, he said he's fine with us discussing it when he's not available."
"I do enjoy a thorough conversation," he said, "and I'm willing to discuss
that
topic anytime."
I walked his direction. "I appreciate that. I need to discuss it often, and if I don't...well, an issue comes up that just won't go away until it gets all talked out, you know what I mean?"
Wade was of average height, so I had to bend a bit when I kissed him, and his lips had just the right amount of firmness. He took hold of my cock and gripped it like a nightstick.
"Are you sure that Max is okay with this?" he asked.
"I have the texts to prove it," I said.
He wrapped his lips around the head of my cock. He couldn't swallow it, but I enjoyed his attempts, and he had a lot of fun playing with it. Settling into a nice rhythm, he sucked the head and several inches of shaft while jerking me with both hands. What he lacked in throating ability, he made up for in enthusiasm. As I leaned forward a bit, one hand grasped the shower column, and the other rode his head as he bobbed on my knob. It felt different from Max, but it worked its magic, and soon I felt myself on the verge of feeding him.
"Gonna give you something to drink, buddy, so start chugging."
I held onto the column with both hands as I came. He choked a bit but did his best to get it all. He stood upright when it stopped, and I saw that he had cum on his face. "Damn. You cum a lot." He jacked his cock, and he asked, "I'm about to cum. Do you want it?"
I squatted a little and mouthed his meat. It felt a bit wide, like an oval, but still comfortable. Since I had little experience, before I knew it, when he let it go, its downward curve caused it to slide right down my throat. It almost gagged me, so I held it near the base to prevent that from happening again. I ran my tongue beneath his foreskin and slurped it as I jacked his cock.
Holding onto my head, he grunted when he came, and he tasted so much like Max that I had no trouble swallowing. I really liked his foreskin, and I wished I still had mine. When I stood, I licked the cum from his chin and fed it to him with a kiss.
"I have a new-found appreciation of Max's abilities," he said. "Throating you is a challenge, so he has some serious skills."
"Oh, he spoils the hell out of me, and I know it." I kissed him, grabbed his taught ass-cheeks, and squeezed them. "So, will you let Tucker fuck you?"
"Yesterday, Tucker picked up one of those 18.6-ounce soup cans from my kitchen cabinets and said, 'See that? That's about how big around I am.' I saw him erect last night, and he wasn't pulling my leg. If I ever took him, it would require a lot of work. Do you like my ass?"
"It's a damn nice one."