Darren and Curtis are beat cops. Partners—and lovers. Their job is to guard the streets at night in a seedy end of town.

After a particularly stimulating encounter with a rent boy, Curtis asks Darren to find a dark alley. He needs to get Darren out of his uniform.

It's like an addiction, their desire for one another. One they can no longer control. What, if anything, will satisfy them tonight?

The incident room erupted in chaos. There had been a disagreement between officers. A matter of opinion I had no part in. My partner and I were strictly beat cops. We would keep an eye out for any perpetrator the force was watching for, but we were not actively involved in finding anyone.

How the department chose to track down this outstanding perp was not in our wheelhouse. We had streets to patrol—peace to be kept. Once the briefing was done, we were out of there.

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I glanced over at my partner, Curtis. He was busy taking notes. He was the conscientious one. The one who gathered the information we needed to start our evening. We were night cops. Roaming the streets, keeping an eye out for trouble. Answering calls of domestic abuse and robberies. We had even been called to attend a few murder scenes in our six years of working together.

My attention wandered to Curtis’s shoulders, his thick biceps, his chest, his muscular thighs—the gorgeous bulge between them. Curtis and I were more than just work partners.

We were lovers.

It had started about three years back. A few furtive glances in the squad car one night had led to some time in the back seat. It had surprised us both, but we had become close after three years of working together. Swapping stories. Laughing and lamenting together. Spending hours on end in each other’s company. We had come to that point; we would die for each other.

Curtis tapped my shoe with his foot. “Darren … let’s go.”

I looked around. Everyone was getting to their feet. We followed suit and headed out the door of the incident room, through the office, and into the garage. I typically drove, so Curtis climbed into the passenger seat and fiddled with the onboard computer as I started the engine.

We would be patrolling our regular patch. It contained some seedy areas. Low-income housing, warehouses, strip clubs, and what amounted to a red-light district. There were a few corner and liquor stores we needed to keep an eye on. Discourage any gangs from loitering around outside. Those stores and the basketball court were favorite places for gangs to get into trouble.

We cruised down the main thoroughfare. Central Boulevard—Main Street, if you prefer. The usual crowds were gathered. Groups of thugs and their scantily dressed girlfriends laughed and postured at the side of the road, blocking sidewalks and generally being a nuisance.

I pulled over beside one such group. Curtis rolled down his window.

“What are you all up to tonight?” he asked with a casual smile. We knew these kids. Knew them well. We had known them since they were in middle school. Now they were small-time teenage hoodlums. Big fish in a very small pond. But their egos outstripped their insignificance.

“What’s it to you …” Markus, the leader of sorts, leaned toward the car, arms pumping forward to intimidate us. He was bluffing. Both sides knew it, but it was part of the display; the need Markus had to prove to his gang that he was king. Not even the po-po scared him.

Curtis scoffed. “We just want to make sure you’re being safe.”

This made Markus laugh. “Safe as safe can be.”

I ducked down and peered out through Curtis’s window. “We don’t want to be getting any calls about you tonight.”

Markus’s girlfriend sauntered up to Curtis’s window. “Why? You boys have other plans?”

Curtis laughed. “Maybe.” Then rolled up his window. I pulled back onto the street and drove toward where the working girls … and guys would be turning tricks. It was illegal, but we never interfered. Everyone had to make a living. Besides, getting on the wrong side of the people who lived in these streets was counterproductive. Sometimes, we needed them for information.

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Trixie was the first to approach our car. This time, I rolled down my window. She leaned in, arms resting on the window frame, Hubba Bubba and whiskey fresh on her breath.

“Good evening, gentlemen.”

“How’s tricks, Trix?” It was our nightly standard greeting.

“Tricks are slow.” Trixie chewed on her gum and then popped it near my ear. “Either of you looking for a date?”

Curtis pressed in against my shoulder, peering up at Trixie. “Not tonight.”

Trixie moved away from my window and swiped the air with her hand. “You say that every night. When are you boys going to give Trixie a little love?”

I smiled at her. “Plenty of love headed your way by means of protecting you.”

Curtis popped open the glove box and removed a strip of six condoms. He handed them to me. I gave them to Trixie. “Stay safe.”

Trixie just chewed on her gum as she tucked the condoms into her bag. It was the least we could do. Aside from keeping the pimps in the area from beating the living hell out of their product and ensuring the johns weren’t psycho killers, there was little else in our repertoire. Sometimes, Curtis would make a shitload of sandwiches to hand out. Some nights, a few condoms, some toiletries, and warm clothing. We weren’t supposed to, but again—it built trust.

As we drove away, I laid my hand on Curtis’s thigh. This was our beat. We would protect it as we saw fit. As we rounded a corner, a young rent boy, Jimmy, almost ended up on our hood.

He raised his hands in apology and smiled at us. We hadn’t seen Jimmy in a while. Weeks. No one knew what happened to him. He had disappeared one night. Curtis and I had thought the worst. We had even filed a missing persons report on him.

I flung my door open. “Jimmy!” I climbed out of the cruiser. “Where the hell have you been?” Curtis accompanied me as we walked to the front of the vehicle. Jimmy looked well—like someone had been caring for him. His clothes were clean, and he seemed well-nourished. He was an attractive guy to begin with. Blond shaggy hair—deep blue eyes. Face of an angel.

Perfect candy for the ladies and gents who sought him out.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the hood of the car. Jimmy appeared to be struggling with his words. That was something about Jimmy. He tended to be nervous and anxious around us. When we saw him speaking to Johns, he was articulate and agonizingly seductive.

“Caught myself a sugar daddy.” Jimmy looked at the ground. “Until he got tired of me.”

Curtis joined me, sitting on the hood of the cruiser. “Sorry to hear that.”

Jimmy’s captivating blue eyes peered up at us. “I thought he was the one.” He scraped his foot back and forth across the pavement. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. When he got all shy and bashful like that, it set off fireworks in my gut. My cock hardened at the sight of him.

Curtis glanced over at me. “Slow your jets,” he whispered. He took a few steps toward Jimmy and clapped him on the back. “I hope you find that special someone someday.”

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Jimmy looked up at him. “But that won’t be you …”

Curtis laughed. “No. That won’t be me.” He allowed Jimmy to angle in close against him. We had nothing to fear from this guy. Even when Jimmy placed his hand on Curtis’s chest, Curtis refused to react. If Jimmy had reached for Curtis’s service revolver, that would be another story. But he never had before. Had no reason to. He was a good guy. Just a bit lost.

Jimmy traced his fingers down the front of Curtis’s protective vest, ending at his belt. My cock responded. An image of Jimmy and Curtis together cascaded through my mind. Curtis kneeling in the backseat of the cruiser, his cock in Jimmy’s mouth. Me behind, drilling Jimmy’s ass.

A spit-roast to end all spit-roasts.

I cleared my throat. Jimmy broke contact with Curtis and took a step back. “Have any condoms for me?” Jimmy followed Curtis back to the cruiser and took a good, long look at Curtis’s ass as Curtis leaned into the vehicle and pulled out a strip of colored condoms.

Jimmy stuffed them in his pocket. “Are you sure?” he asked Curtis. “I could make it two for one.” He looked at me. It was damned tempting. No one would know. Not anyone who cared anyway. I shook my head. We were supposed to be protecting these people, not fucking them.

“Sorry, Jimmy.” Curtis patted Jimmy’s cheek. “Play safe tonight.”

“Sure thing, Officer Curtis.” Jimmy smiled at us, then disappeared into the night. I swung into my seat and waited for Curtis to do the same. He was watching me as he took a seat beside me.

“Find a dark alley,” he said, and removed his hat. He ran his hand back and forth over his cropped hair. There was determination in his voice. Jimmy had rattled him.

Sexually.

I drove a few blocks down and pulled into an abandoned warehouse yard. There were no other cars there. Just us and the pitch-black emptiness. I switched off the cruiser.

Curtis leaned closer, edging past the computer, and pressed his lips to mine. I opened my mouth, accepting his tongue, and devoured his lips. He tasted of coffee and mint toothpaste. I tossed my hat onto the dash alongside Curtis’s and dove deeper, twisting in my seat.

He was the first and only guy I had ever been with. The possibility had never entered my mind before I met him of hooking up with a guy. Even our first few years together—nothing. Then, one night, everything changed. Curtis clawed at my shirt, and I groaned into his mouth—overcome.

It felt like I was addicted to him.

He shifted in his seat. There was too much equipment between us. The computer, the steering wheel, the center console. I tugged at Curtis’s tie, loosening it, and undid the first button of his shirt. Curtis breathed heavily across my lips. “I want you—right now.”

If I were addicted to Curtis, he was equally addicted to me. Rarely a night passed that we didn’t have our hands all over each other. Most nights, we managed to wait until the end of our shift, heading to Curtis’s apartment after signing out. But sometimes, the excitement of fucking each other in the cruiser won out. This was going to be one of those nights.

“Get in the back,” I panted.

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I peeled myself away from Curtis, flung my door open, and stumbled out into the night air. I hauled the back door open. Curtis did the same on his side. He was already unbuckling his belt. My cock hardened, listening to his belt buckle rattle as it was freed.

Curtis’s utility belt thumped onto the passenger seat, along with his vest. I removed my vest and tossed it on the driver’s seat. The thump-thump of the two front doors closing echoed throughout the parking lot.

In the dim illumination of the interior light, Curtis slid into the back seat, pants around his ankles, his ass and cock exposed. It was all the motivation I needed. Curtis’s thick, hairy thighs and long, glistening cock were waiting for me. I climbed into the back seat with him.

Sitting as close to the door as possible, I leaned over and lifted Curtis’s hard cock into my mouth. He relaxed into his position, arms resting along the back of the seat. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, and swore aloud as I bobbed up and down on his shaft. This was my happy place. Face deep between Curtis’s thighs, his cock stroking my throat.

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Dusty is a Private First-Class undergoing basic training at Fort Carson. Their days are filled with drills, training, and classes.

When night rolls around, Dusty crashes onto his cot. He’s awoken by explicit, lurid, and lewd dreams. He heads to the washroom to relieve the pressure.

While there, he runs into Private Carlos, awoken by the same problem. Weeks without human contact have the two men seeking fulfillment with any warm body they can find.

The day had already been long at Fort Carson. It was only three in the afternoon under the Colorado Springs sun, but every muscle in my body was complaining. We had started early, as we normally did, five in the morning, except we had been ordered to complete two minutes of push-ups, two minutes of sit-ups, and a timed two-mile run, all before breakfast.

After eating, we headed to additional weapons training. Week six of ten, Warrior Phase, and I was starting to feel like I could keep up. Private First-Class Dusty Langham reporting for duty. Now that the afternoon had rolled around, we would enter the classroom learning portion of our day. After that, back outside, followed by dinner—followed by more training. Come ten at night, we were permitted to crash in our bunks until the next day descended on us.

I liked the routine. My civilian life had not been regimented at all. I had been on a road to nowhere. No job, no prospects—no post-secondary education. I had been too busy partying and carrying on down at the sports bars and pubs most nights, living off my inheritance. When that money dried up, I knew I needed to make a change. It was that or end up homeless.

The army was a perfect fit for me. Despite my wayward ways, I knew how to work hard. I had just chosen not to. My days had consisted of getting drunk at night, shagging, sleeping in, and then heading to the gym. I was in good physical shape. More so now because of basic training.

I didn't have a steady girlfriend. I was too much of a loner. One-night stands were the order of the day for me. Basic training had broken me of my lone wolf attitude. We needed to work as a team here. We relied on each other. Leaned on each other when the need arose. I had made more friends here than I had ever had in my life. Both men and women—it was a brotherhood.

Despite that, I was lonely. Lack of affection and any kind of physical human contact was beating me down. And damned if I wasn't as horny as a horned toad. You often heard guys joking about it, the lack of sex. How the absence of it would be what broke them. I shared their sentiment. Jerking off on the sly only took you so far.

I tapped my pen on the desk, ready to take notes as the class started. Everything we learned in theory would be put into practice later. I needed to pay attention.

The guy behind me tapped me on the shoulder. "Hey, do you have an extra pen? Every single one of mine has decided to run out of ink."

Private Carlos Vázquez. He was a stocky guy, about my height. He always killed it in the obstacle course, and he was an excellent marksman. I didn't know him very well. He was in a different area of the barracks from me, so we hadn't had an opportunity to talk.

"Sure, yeah." I handed him a pen.

"Thanks."

Those were the most words we had ever shared.

As I sat there listening, my mind wandered. Back to my last sexual encounter before entering the military. I'd had a hell of a night out in preparation, knowing full well I would pay the price the next day when basic training started. I had brought two women home with me that night. They had worn me out. My cock had never seen that much action in one night.

My cock twitched at the memory. I snapped my attention back to the instruction being relayed. It took every bit of concentration I had to make my cock behave. I was relieved when the class was over, and we were ordered to complete a one-mile run to burn off steam.

Dinner was quiet. I sat with my usual crew. Everyone was tired. We would be hitting the sheets hard tonight. When ten at night finally made its appearance, we were ready for it.

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I hauled off my uniform, stored it, and crashed onto my bunk. I was asleep in moments, but my dreams plagued me. Images of fucking women and getting blow jobs in back alleys clung to my mind. I awoke to a harder than steel cock. One that needed to be drained. I had to pee.

I climbed out of bed and headed for the washroom. By the time I got there, my cock had calmed down somewhat, but the sexual images were still there, dancing around in my head.

My cock hardened again, but I decided to try my luck anyway and stepped up to a urinal. I turned at the sound of someone coming into the room behind me. It was Carlos. He looked as sleep-deprived as I felt. He nodded at me and took the urinal two down from me.

I didn't mean to peer over. But that was a thing, comparing your cock to other guys. I looked away. Carlos was having the same trouble as me. His cock was as stiff as a damned board.

Not sure why I started a conversation about it. "Tough being away from any action, hey?"

Carlos looked in my direction and smirked. "Glad I'm not the only one."

"Been having some wicked dreams. Can't seem to shake them."

"Same." Carlos appeared to give up, tucking his cock back in his briefs. He wandered over to one of the washroom stalls. "Gonna take care of this so I can piss and go back to sleep."

I looked down at my cock. Not a bad idea. I wouldn't have had any luck otherwise. I headed toward the stalls. Carlos was standing just inside one with the door still open.

"Wanna share?" he asked.

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Patrick loves being a firefighter. The camaraderie, the excitement, the opportunity to contribute to the community.

After a particularly rough fire, Patrick decides to stay on at the firehouse and sleep there. The other guy from the night’s two-man team, Wade, decides to stay as well. They’re both on the next night shift together.

When Wade wakes him up, looking for a bit of action, Patrick stops to think about it. What if the rest of the firehouse were to find out?

The rough blanket was making it impossible to sleep. That and I had a distinct feeling we would be called out as soon as I fell asleep. I threw the blanket off and began to shiver in moments, the cold crawling up my spine. The second floor of the firehouse was freezing. I hauled the blanket back onto my shoulders. I let my mind wander through the day I'd had yesterday.

It had been nothing special. Cleaning, laundry … grocery shopping. The replay soon bored my mind into relaxing. Sleep finally descended on me.

And sure enough, the damned alarm rang out.

There were six of us sleeping in the room. Everyone scrambled out of bed and hit the pole at the far end of the room. Landing at the bottom, in the bay, we yanked on our firefighting gear.

Outfitted, I dropped into one of the backseats and strapped in.

The bay doors rolled open, and we sped out into the night.

"Patrick …" The guy across from me nudged me with his foot. I had only worked with him a few times. Sure, we had trained together plenty, but I had no idea what he was like in the field.

I smirked at him. "Yes, Wade … I'm awake."

Wade chuckled. "Just checking. You had your eyes closed."

"Just preparing myself." The call was for an actual fire. Usually, our time was spent as first responders to car accidents and the occasional heart attack. One's system became flooded with adrenaline and nerves when the call came in for something potentially dangerous.

We arrived and pulled up to an apartment building. Three floors, five stories up, were engulfed in flames. It was a nightmare-inducing scenario. The street was crowded with onlookers and residents of the building. The first job was to run the hoses and clear the area. We would work with the police and the paramedics to ensure everyone was safe.

After the captain assessed the situation, the lieutenant dispensed the orders. My task was to head into the building and start clearing the floors. Make sure everyone was out safely. Wade would work with me as part of a two-man team.

We each grabbed an ax and headed for the front door. We started at opposite ends of the hallway and started pounding on doors. Surprisingly, a few people always failed to exit the building. And others who were mobility-challenged, who needed our assistance. With the first floor empty, we headed to the floor above the fire. Another team had arrived and would start clearing the floors between the ground and the fire.

The blast of flames came out of nowhere. The smoke had been thick as we moved toward the stairwell. When we opened the door leading to it, the ball of fire spewing forth had knocked us both on our asses. Wade was behind me. I landed on him hard. He patted my shoulder. I nodded, reached back, and tapped his thigh a few times. We were both all right.

We struggled to our feet and continued. It was hard going, and we were exhausted by the time we climbed back in the fire engine at nine-thirty the next morning. The fire was out. The building secure. Another team would be combing through the debris to make sure we hadn't missed any hot spots. After that, an investigator would begin work to determine the cause.

Hyped up from the adrenaline, sleep was not on anyone's mind. We all crowded into the kitchen of the firehouse for a cup of coffee, then headed to the showers. We nearly drained the hot water tank. Six guys with a layer of serious grime to be washed away took a while. Most of the guys left after that, their shifts over. I stayed on. So did Wade. We were both working three nights straight. Not sure why he stuck around. I just didn't feel like going home.

I looked around the common room. I like the camaraderie of firefighting. The hum of the firehouse in full swing. Hanging out with the men and women of the day shift as they watched television, played games, and cooked, I almost felt normal.

"You all right?" Wade touched my shoulder. I was leaning against the kitchen counter, gazing off blindly into space. "Sleeping with your eyes open this time."

I finished the coffee in my cup. "I should probably lie down for a while."

"Yeah, not much sleep last night." He clapped his hand on my shoulder. "I'm exhausted."

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Wade followed as I headed for the sleeping quarters. "Why didn't you head home?"

"Not much interesting there," he replied. "You?"

I shrugged and lied. "I like this bed better."

"Hah!" Wade shoved me playfully. I tumbled into a lower bunk. He climbed up on the top; the squeak of the springs from the bed above me settled in moments.

I passed out.

I was awoken by the shift and rattle of the metal bed frame, and the thump of feet as they landed on the floor beside me. It was pitch black in the room, but it couldn't be anyone other than Wade. We were the only ones who needed to rest up for our shift.

I rolled to face the figure. "Can't sleep?"

"No." It was Wade. That made me relax. We had worked well together last night. We had come to rely on each other fully. I trusted him now.

"Thinking about the fire?"

"No." Wade squatted down beside my bed. "I've had something else on my mind."

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Greg’s girlfriend has left him. He’s volatile and irritated, threatening the continuation of his college scholarship.

Smartening up on the field, he helps bring his team to victory. Afterward, in the shower, he finds it difficult to keep his eyes off the quarterback, Devin.

Little does he know, Devin has plans for him. Once the locker room clears, Devin heads back into the showers, where Greg is enjoying the hot water.

How steamy is the shower going to get?

Rain started falling, making Greg's life even more miserable. He had been sent to the bench to cool off. The coach had pulled him from the football game for a couple of plays. Greg had been risking a foul. His mind was in chaos. Everything was pissing him off.

His college scholarship was on the line if he didn't smarten up. His grades were falling, and his playing was suffering from the amount of stress he was under. His girlfriend, since middle school, had finally given him the heave-ho. Greg had never been able to live up to her expectations. When she had started talking about marriage, he had freaked out.

In response, she had walked out on him.

He wasn't prepared for the loneliness that had ensued.

Greg scrubbed his hand across his face. He just couldn't see himself with her long-term. Sure, she had been fun in high school … even the first couple of years of college, but he'd had no intention of settling down with her and starting a family.

There was so much he wanted to do first.

"Okay … head on in," the coach said. "But watch yourself. Play clean."

Greg grunted, hauled his helmet onto his head, and jogged onto the field. It was the last quarter, and they were tied 37:37. The other team had possession. Greg's position was outside linebacker. He was a big guy. Six-four, two-hundred-fifty pounds. Built like a truck. Their center tossed the ball back to their quarterback, and Greg started moving, checking their tight end. When the ball was passed to his check, Greg burst forward and nailed him to the field.

He rolled off the guy and leaped to his feet. No whistle—no foul. Clean tackle. For the rest of the game, Greg behaved himself. The score ended 45:37 in their favor.

The locker room afterward was in full celebration. The volume of boisterous voices, the smell of sweat-soaked equipment—the increasing flashes of skin as everyone loaded into the showers.

Greg held back. The group showering facilities made him anxious. The sight of all those naked men churned up his insides. It was a side of himself he didn't want to admit to, his attraction to men. Especially when it came to his teammates. That felt even more wrong.

After some time passed, he yanked off his gear and threw it into the bin for cleaning. Grabbing a towel off the rack, he headed for the large, tiled room with a multitude of showerheads. Some of the guys were sharing, their bodies bumping against each other as they washed.

Greg sighed.

Their flesh glistening and wet, covered in suds.

He concentrated on the task at hand. He doubled up with the quarterback, Devin, and stood under the spray, then stepped out and started washing his hair and skin with body wash.

"Great game," Devin said before stepping under the water to rinse his face and hair. His eyes were shut, his mouth popping open and closed as the water cascaded over his full lips.

Greg sighed. "Yeah … sure was." He couldn't take his eyes off Devin. He looked away when his cock decided to respond to where his mind was taking him. The last thing he needed was to sport a boner in the shower. Sure, it sometimes happened to any one of them. Usually, when the guys were talking about what they were going to do to their girlfriends later.

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Now, he didn't have that excuse. Everyone knew he had been dumped.

"You were hitting them hard out there," Devin continued.

"Coach thinks a little too hard." Greg grinned while scrubbing under his arms. "I think he thought I was going to decapitate someone today."

"Nah … you know to keep your hands low."

Greg glanced down at Devin's abs, then back to his eyes. Keeping his hands low on Devin's body would lead to some interesting places.

Devin smirked. "Don't think I didn't just catch that."

Greg furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Nothing." Devin rinsed off again and then wandered out of the showers. Greg was the last one in the shower room. He decided to take his time—enjoy the hot water.

He emerged from the water and wiped his hands across his face, clearing his eyes. When he opened them, Devin was standing at the shower entrance. He was still in his towel. It was wrapped around his waist, slung low, exposing the cut of his lower abs above his groin.

"Forget something?" Greg asked.

"You could say that." Devin let his towel fall to the floor. He stood there in the nude, waiting—watching. Greg shut off the water, unsure of what Devin was suggesting.

"What are you doing?" Greg thought it best to ask.

"Everyone has gone." Devin took a step toward him. "I've been watching you—watching."

"What do you mean?"

"The way you sneak glances at the guys." Devin stepped closer. "The way you try to distract yourself from reacting to their flesh."

Greg's chest rose and fell, exhaling an exhausted breath. He was tired of hiding. His gaze wandered over Devin's body. He was lean and muscular, his semi-hard cock thick.

"And …"

"And …" Devin smiled. "I would like to help you with that."

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This audiobook is read by the human narrator David Long. And his voice is oh so sexy!

A football player, a firefighter, a private in the military, and a beat cop.

Four short stories about their lust-driven exploits and the men that accompany them there.