* * * *
Once, and only once, their roles had reversed. It had been on their anniversary, the day when, two years earlier, Matt first saw Vic at the gym and wondered what he could say or do to get the big lug to look his way. Vic counted New Year’s Eve as their anniversary, which was the date they finally overstepped the fine line between friends and lovers, but for Matt, life started that early spring day in the weight room.
The evening of his anniversary, they’d been in the living room watching Jeopardy! Vic’s hectic summer shifts hadn’t yet started, so his evenings were spent at home with Matt, the two of them entwined on the couch. Matt sat at one end and Vic stretched out beside him, head on a small throw pillow, legs tucked up, bare feet in Matt’s lap. Bored with the television, Matt strummed the bottoms of Vic’s feet, studying his lover’s pale legs and the fine blonde hair barely discernable along the smooth skin. His gaze drifted over Vic’s knees, up his thick thighs, to the front of his threadbare boxers, where the fabric tented slightly. When he tickled the bottom of Vic’s toes, the bulge shuddered in response. When Matt reached out to trail a finger up the back of Vic’s thighs, a snap on the fly of his lover’s boxers popped open beneath the sudden strain.
“You’re playing with me,” Vic murmured.
With one fist curled under his chin, he lay on his side watching television. Matt sat in the corner of his vision, his gentle touches stealing Vic’s attention from the show. Most distracting was the hand that tickled the back of his leg, high up on his thigh where his buttocks began to curve. Matt picked up an image from Vic’s mind as easily as picking a dandelion—his hand slipping into the leg of Vic’s boxers, those long fingers finding their way to the puckered skin that led into the core of Vic’s being. Just those fingers, fucking him, and Matt’s other hand caressing the bottom of his feet.
A tempting thought. Matt plucked at the hem of Vic’s boxers, debating going farther. But Matt surprised them both when he said, “You love me this time.”
“I do,” Vic answered automatically. At Matt’s slight frown, Vic’s gaze shifted to him. Matt sent him a quick thought that flashed through them both and was gone—him on his stomach and Vic behind him, above him, in him, for once. Vic’s brows creased. “Wait. You mean…”
“I’ve never…” Matt started, then sort of shrugged, as if leaving it up to Vic. “So you’d be my first.”
Vic stared at him, his mind eerily quiet.
“We don’t have to,” Matt murmured. He didn’t like the silence that suddenly spawned between them. “I know you like…I just thought—”
Vic cut him off. “We can. If you’re sure.” When Matt nodded, Vic backed up against the couch and patted the space in front of him. “Come here then.”
Matt lay in front of Vic, who stretched his legs out along the couch to make more room for them both. A large hand petted Matt’s shoulders, then turned him over so his back pressed against Vic’s chest. The hardness at Vic’s crotch bunched like a fist against Matt’s buttocks. With a humorless laugh, Matt said, “I’m nervous.”
“Relax.” Vic’s hand stroked Matt’s stomach, smoothing down his T-shirt, then slipped beneath the fabric to rub over bare skin ticklish at his touch. Nuzzling Matt’s curls aside, Vic kissed the back of his ear and whispered, “You sure about this, love?”
The warm breath rushed through him, melting any resistance he had. “Yes,” Matt sighed. Vic’s hand trailed low over his belly to ease into the front of Matt’s boxers, where it cupped the start of an erection that stood beneath Vic’s palm. “Please.”
Vic took his time, kissing the back of Matt’s neck, sucking on his earlobe, fondling his dick and balls. With slight movements so as not disturb their intimacy, he reached for a tube of lubricant that sat discarded on the end table, within easy reach. Gently he eased down Matt’s boxers, then his own. Matt gasped at the thickness that poked between his buttocks, fear clenching his stomach and groin. “Relax,” Vic purred again as he slathered his own erection with lube. “It’s going to hurt more if you’re tense. We can stop—”
“No.” Matt took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind and relax his body. He wanted to do this, to give himself to Vic. It was the only thing that stood between them, keeping them apart. As a wet hand glided between his ass cheeks, Matt arched into the touch. Large fingers rimmed his tight hole, the lube warming until it felt like flames licked his ass. An involuntary hiss escaped Matt’s lips as one huge finger slipped into him.
“Please,” he gasped again. The sensation burned through him, not quite painful but not quite not at the same time. It didn’t hurt, not really, but it didn’t feel all that great either. But once Vic eased past the first tight band of muscle, Matt felt the fire eat him from the inside out, flames spiraling through his body with each slow thrust.
Then Vic touched something deep in him that set his blood ablaze, and his cock went from semi-erect to an iron shaft that pulsed in time with the beating of his heart.
With mind numbing slowness, Vic pulled his finger free and guided his hard dick into Matt in its place. Each tiny inch hurt, despite the kisses behind his ear and the hand stroking his own weeping erection, cradling his thudding balls. Vic’s other hand cupped Matt’s cheek and Matt bit into the fleshy pad beneath Vic’s thumb, stifling the cry that wanted to tear from his throat as Vic eased into him. Matt’s breath came in shallow pants, his whole body tense again, fighting against the moment. He wanted to like this, he did, but Jesus Christ and all the saints above, it hurt.
“Relax,” Vic sighed again.
Matt tried and couldn’t. “God,” he gasped, and “shit,” and “Vic.”
Suddenly a calming presence filled his mind. Vic hugged him close, both physically and mentally, opening the connection they shared until Matt felt what Vic felt every time they made love. He felt the man move within him, body and mind, felt love pouring into him, thrusting into him, consuming him. The pain dispersed beneath kisses, caresses, mental strokes that soothed his body, loosened his muscles, allowing him to take Vic in. Then each thrust brought with it a shot of pleasure that spiraled through Matt, igniting his veins, engulfing his heart.
It seemed to last forever. Matt came twice, once when Vic fully entered him and again when Vic got off. Both times his orgasm ripped through him, tearing him apart. Afterwards he felt hollow, deflated, used, but even when Vic pulled free, their minds still meshed as they cuddled together on the couch. Matt’s teeth left a deep, mouth-shaped bruise on Vic’s palm that took a good week to clear.
The next day, Matt woke up sick. A migraine stabbed behind his eyes, thudded in his ears, churned his stomach. In the bathroom, the bright light made him vomit into the sink. His legs shook so badly, he could barely stand. It was all he could do to stumble back to bed, where the sheets were too hot and chafed his skin. “I’m dying,” he muttered to Vic.
“You’re not dead yet,” Vic assured him, but the frown on his lover’s face hinted otherwise.
“I’m on fire,” Matt swore. He reached out with his mind to share his ailment with Vic, only to find himself cut off from his lover. Alone. Fear blossomed in him. “Vic? I can’t feel you.”
A cool hand covered his forehead. “I’m right here.”
“Talk to me,” Matt demanded. His eyes slipped closed as he concentrated on connecting with his lover. “Tell me something, anything.” He heard Vic’s mouth open and shook his head. “Not out loud.”
Nothing.
A sliver of fear crept into Vic’s voice. “Matty, what’s happened?”
Oh, God.
* * * *
The sickness passed, and slowly the connection re-established itself between them, spinning out like a spider’s delicate thread, weaving itself into a web that held them together. Matt figured the powers were to blame, again. A certain level must have built up in Vic—he had an untapped store of super strength at all times, and the telepathy between them was always there, as well. Even when they didn’t make love for several da
ys, those two powers still lived in him. As Matt regained his health, he thought maybe those lingering powers had transferred from Vic back to him during sex, and maybe they clashed with whatever created them in the first place. When given back to their source, they squealed like feedback on a microphone, sickening him.
Never again.
Later, Vic thanked Matt for giving up his virginity. Matt tried to shrug it off like it was nothing, but Vic wouldn’t let him make light of his gift. “You’re my first,” he said, covering Matt’s mouth with one hand to keep him from protesting. “I’ve never done that before, and probably won’t ever again. So it means the world to me. Thank you.”
“It’s yours when you want it,” Matt promised. He only half-meant it—though he was pleased Vic liked it enough to make such a big deal about it, he hoped his lover would never take him up on the offer again. The pain and discomfort of entry might ease in time but that “morning after” bit he could live without.
Reading that thought, Vic smiled and rubbed Matt’s knee in a comforting gesture. “It’s nice to switch up now and then, but to be honest? I almost didn’t get off on it.”
Surprised, Matt laughed. “I’ll be better next time, I promise.”
“You were great,” Vic said. “I just need something in me to come.” His smile widened, his eyes twinkling. “Something like you.”
* * * *
That moment replayed itself in Matt’s mind, along with dozens of others, intimate snatches of dialogue, tongues and hands and lips on heated flesh, open thoughts spilling into each other in the early morning light that illuminated the kitchen table and Vic’s paper, unread before him. As Matt’s toes tickled the tender spot where Vic’s cock and balls met, his lover thrust his hips forward, pressing his crotch against Matt’s foot.
Abandoning his chair, Matt dropped to the floor and crawled beneath the table, reaching for the thick cock that stood up from Vic’s hairless groin. As Matt’s mouth covered the already damp tip, Vic eased down in his chair, spreading his legs to grant Matt’s thumb access to his asshole. He raised one leg, propping his foot on the table, opening himself to Matt’s hot tongue and strong, sure fingers. Matt massaged Vic’s cockhead with his lips, rubbed over it, suckled. He deep-throated the shaft once, twice, then concentrated on the tip again. When he felt his lover close to climax, he eased one thumb up Vic’s ass, drawing the pleasure out, savoring the shuddering moan he heard above him.
Vic came in a thick rush, filling Matt’s mouth and puffing his cheeks before he swallowed. “God,” Vic gasped. “Oh, Matt. God. Jesus.”
With a laugh, Matt climbed out from under the table. “Any one will do,” he teased.
Vic lay back in his chair, spent. Matt paused to rub a hand over his lover’s bald pate, then leaned Vic’s head back to snag a long, loving kiss. “Have a great day,” Matt whispered into him.
“Too late,” Vic sighed. “I already did.”
* * * *
Chapter 10
By three in the afternoon, the morning’s glow had faded to a dull sheen that gleamed in Matt’s memory as if it had happened last week sometime, or a few days back, or even in a dream. The day had ground down around him, taking the shine off the moment and giving Matt a nagging headache—he wanted nothing more than to call it quits, head home, and lie on the sofa in the dark until Vic arrived. No reporters lingered in the gym’s lobby today, but two instructors had canceled classes at the last minute, and if one more mother asked him when he’d get around to creating a swim team for kids, he’d scream. He had enough on his plate as it was, managing the pool and coaching the adults’ swim team. Couldn’t they see he was short staffed? For Christ’s sake, he was only one man.
When the pool opened to the public at three, Matt left the lifeguard’s whistle with Joy, a perky blonde who took engineering classes downtown during the day. Until he saw her duck into the locker room to change out of her street clothes, Matt had half expected her to call in sick, too. He needed to hire another person, if only so he could concentrate on the paperwork involved in keeping the pool open. He had timesheets to turn in this week, and invoices to pay, and another stack of pink While You Were Out phone messages waiting on his desk. Since his name had appeared in the paper, those damn messages seemed to be multiplying. Next time Vic played the hero, Matt would make sure to stay out of the limelight.
Matt headed into his office, his thoughts selfish. There shouldn’t be a next time. Was this how wives of firefighters felt? Or loved ones of policemen? Or hell, all those mothers standing by the pool, shouting at their kids to stop horsing around before they got hurt? If Matt had his way, he’d wrap Vic in a bubble and protect him from the rest of the world. Vic would never feel pain, if he could help it. If only Matt could give him a useful power, something that could save him from all the others.
As Matt plopped down in the chair behind his desk, his mind turned to condoms. If anyone needed protection during sex…
Matt shook his head. Condoms weren’t the answer—he knew, they’d used them once, after Vic developed the scary ability to teleport. Yes, it looked cool in the movies, but there was nothing cool about some of the places where Vic involuntarily popped up.
* * * *
It happened their first year together. Matt didn’t remember the position they’d used that gave Vic the unnerving ability to just disappear, but it was probably written down in one of Vic’s small little journals somewhere, or noted in the margins of his Kama Sutra book. Matt remembered holding his lover against him as he moved deep in Vic with a heated urgency that lingered long after they both got off and fell asleep, limbs wrapped around each other. Even that early in their relationship, Matt clung to every moment they had together, sure if he could hold Vic tight enough, he’d keep the man safe. If only he could hold him forever.
The next morning Vic stumbled into the kitchen, his usual morning grumpy bear self. As Matt tried to kiss his cheek, he disappeared.
Thinking his lover had just drawn the invisibility card again, Matt teased, “Where’d you go, cupcake?”
From the bedroom, Vic growled, “Apparently I’m back in bed.”
He barely made it to the kitchen a second time before he was gone again. Matt tried to stifle a laugh as his displaced lover knocked on the front door of their apartment. The third time, Vic reached for his coffee mug and found himself on the balcony outside.
That wasn’t funny.
As Matt let Vic back into the apartment, his voice shook with anger and fear. “A few more inches to the right and you would’ve been standing on thin air.” He slammed the balcony door shut, hard enough to rattle the glass in its frame. “Last I checked, you can’t fly.”
“There was that one time—” Vic started. Then he disappeared.
Matt whirled around, trying to look everywhere at once. “Vic?” he called out, scared. Anger clouded his mind. So much for holding onto him, eh? “Where the hell did you go?”
His lover’s voice whispered in his mind, ::Outside on the street. This power sucks.::
::Get back in here,:: Matt snapped. ::I’m not through being mad at you yet.::
::Oh, right,:: Vic answered, sardonic. Downstairs Matt heard the door to their building open on squealing hinges. ::I keep forgetting this is all MY fault.::
When that power wore off, Matt suggested condoms. He even bought a box, extra thick to prevent breaking. They used a total of one. After making love, they cuddled in bed as usual, but the whole affair seemed stilted to Matt, forced. Even the mental powers they shared seemed diminished. But he didn’t voice his concern—if it kept Vic from harm, he’d use a condom every single time they had sex. Hell, he’d use two.
But Vic had other plans. Kissing Matt’s temple, Vic murmured, “I know you’re scared for me, but this isn’t the answer. It can’t be. I need to feel you when we’re doing it, Matty. Not some rubber up my ass. I need you.”
Matt didn’t want to admit it, but he knew what Vic meant. Despite being “ribbed for his pleas
ure,” the condom deadened the sensations he felt during sex. There was something that passed between them when they coupled, a free exchange of pleasure and lust and desire that got Matt hotter than he thought possible…maybe the powers enhanced the connection he shared with Vic, expounded upon their love, until they weren’t just two men fucking, but one beating, pulsing, living heart seeking completion. Maybe together they were love, a pure emotion embodied in their most intimate moments, one soul split into two parts and made whole.
Then Vic sighed into his curls. Into Matt’s mind, he whispered, ::You realize if we block the powers, this ability of ours will fade, too.::
Matt hadn’t thought of that.
Without a word, he extracted himself from Vic’s embrace and climbed out of bed. Grabbing the box of condoms off his bedside table, he stormed naked from the bedroom. Down the hall, into the kitchen, to the balcony door with its vertical blinds that held back the night. He felt Vic’s bemused smirk in his head as he yanked the door open and stepped out onto the small metal balcony, the night air prickling his bare skin into goose bumps. Then he pitched the box of condoms out into the night, throwing it away as hard as he could.
In mid-flight, the box opened and condoms tumbled like rain into the drainage culvert behind their building. As Matt watched them fall, Vic’s voice curled into his mind, warming him from the inside. ::Get back in here before someone calls the cops.:: When Matt didn’t move, Vic sent him a mental image of himself in the bed—on his knees and forearms, his head buried in a pillow and legs parted with his ample ass in the air, buttocks spread and inviting. ::Get back in HERE,:: Vic tried again.
Matt tripped over his own feet in his haste to comply.
* * * *
At the gym, Matt’s desk fronted a large window that gave him a full view of the pool. As he sank into his chair, he ignored the splashes and shrieks that came from the children playing in the water. The phone messages waiting for him seemed to have multiplied since the last time he came into his office. With a glance through them to make sure none were from Vic, Matt dropped the whole stack into the trash can beneath his desk. He didn’t have the energy to call all those people back, let alone the time. If it were important, they’d call again.
Bonds of Love Page 8
