The university dorm alarm shrieked at three in the morning, a banshee wail that yanked half the building awake in seconds. Smoke poured thick from the second-floor common room, acrid and black, curling under doors like greedy fingers. Students stumbled into hallways in pajamas and panic, coughing, shoving, phones lighting up faces in blue-white flashes. Fire licked the edges of a faulty microwave someone had left running with foil inside, turning a late-night snack into an inferno that laughed at sprinklers.
Ace Harlan was first off the truck, helmet already locked, mask dangling at his neck because he hated the muffled world it created until the last possible second. Engine 47's lights painted the night red and white, sirens cutting off mid-wail as the crew deployed. He barked orders sharp and calm, voice carrying over the chaos like it always did. "Search and evacuate! Hose lines to the second floor! Vent the windows!" His crew moved like extensions of his will, no hesitation, no questions. Ace charged the stairwell, axe in hand, boots pounding concrete steps that already felt warm underfoot.
Inside the building the heat pressed like a living thing. Smoke stung his eyes even through the visor. He swept rooms methodically, pulling coughing freshmen from beds, guiding them to the escape. Most were scared silent; a few cried. Ace kept his tone steady, reassuring, the same voice that talked women out of burning cars and into his bed. But tonight his pulse hammered for a different reason. He told himself it was the fire. He knew better.
Then he saw him.
Dani Voss strolled down the main stairwell like he was late for coffee, not fleeing a blaze. Hoodie zipped halfway, hair tied in a messy knot at his nape, backpack slung over one shoulder. He moved with that same unhurried sway, stepping around a puddle of water from the sprinklers like it was an inconvenience. Smoke swirled around his legs, but he didn't cough, didn't hurry. He looked almost bored. Beautiful. Untouchable. Ace's stomach flipped hard enough to bruise.
Dani reached the landing, glanced up, and froze for half a heartbeat when he saw the firefighter blocking his path. The helmet hid Ace's face, but the broad shoulders, the way he stood planted like he owned gravity, felt familiar. Too familiar.
Ace stepped forward, voice muffled through the mask. "You need to move. Now. This floor's compromised."
Dani tilted his head, squinting through the haze. "I'm moving. Relax, hero. I've got legs."
Ace's jaw clenched under the helmet. The desire hit him like a backdraft—sudden, scorching, unstoppable. He remembered the club: the backless gown, the press of that body against his, the laugh that had hooked him deep. Now it was hoodie and smoke and the same slim frame that made his blood roar. He knew who it was. Dani didn't. Not yet.
Ace reached up, yanked the helmet off in one motion. Sweat-damp hair fell across his forehead, soot streaked his cheeks, blue eyes blazing under the emergency lights. Recognition slammed into Dani's face like a door kicked open. Those hazel eyes widened, lips parting on a soft, surprised breath.
"You," Dani said, voice low, almost amused. "Of course it's you."
Ace didn't smile. "Get out. Stop playing around. The ceiling could drop any second."
Dani studied him for a beat, then shrugged one shoulder. Instead of running past, he stepped closer—close enough that Ace could smell vanilla under the smoke—and turned his back. "Fine. Piggyback. My ankle's twisted from the stairs. Carry me, firefighter."
Ace stared at the offered back: narrow shoulders, long hair escaping the knot, skin glowing pale in the flickering light. Every instinct screamed no. Every other part of him screamed yes. Desire roared through him again, thick and violent—wanting to pin Dani to the wall right here, rip the hoodie off, bury himself deep while the building burned around them. The image flashed hot and filthy behind his eyes. He hated how much he wanted it. Hated how his cock twitched at the thought despite the smoke, despite the danger, despite everything sane telling him to run.
He didn't hesitate long. One arm hooked under Dani's thighs, the other across his chest. Dani climbed on without a word, legs wrapping Ace's waist, arms looping around his neck. The weight was perfect—light but solid, warm body molding to his back like it belonged there. Dani's breath ghosted his ear, thighs squeezing just enough to send sparks down Ace's spine. Ace bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, forced his legs to move.
He carried Dani down the last flight, boots thudding heavy, smoke thickening with every step. Dani stayed quiet, but his fingers flexed against Ace's collarbones, nails grazing skin through the turnout jacket. The contact burned worse than the fire. Ace's breathing turned ragged, not from exertion. From restraint. From the war inside him: want versus fear, lust versus the crumbling wall of his identity.
They burst out the front doors into cool night air. Cheers from waiting students, paramedics rushing forward. Ace set Dani down carefully on the grass, hands lingering a second too long on slim hips before he let go like the touch scorched him.
Dani straightened his hoodie, brushed hair from his face, and met Ace's eyes. Calm. Steady. Unreadable.
Ace's voice came out rough, cracked at the edges. "Stay away from me."
Dani blinked once, slow.
"You're destroying my sanity," Ace continued, words spilling like they'd been dammed too long. "I can't—I don't—I need you to just… stay the fuck away."
Dani held his gaze for another heartbeat. No anger. No hurt. Just a small, almost sad tilt of his lips. Then he turned his back, shoulders relaxed, and walked away into the crowd of evacuees without a single word.
Ace stood rooted, chest heaving, helmet dangling from one hand. The fire still roared behind him, hoses hissing, his crew shouting updates. But all he could hear was the echo of his own plea, and the silence Dani left in his wake.
The night smelled like smoke and regret, and Ace felt both clinging to his skin like they'd never wash off.