Bonds of Love

by Snyder, J. M.

  By now the rest of Kyle’s friends were climbing out of the pool and drifting over to the table. Matt wanted to get away—take care of Vic first, then let his own whirling thoughts unwind somewhere quiet. The bathroom promised solitude, if nothing else. “I’ll take care of this,” Matt said, leading Vic through the throng of wet, scantily-clad male bodies that crowded around them. He held onto Vic’s fist as he guided his lover to the back door and the relative safety within Kyle’s house. “We’ll be right back.”

  As they passed the grill, Jordan looked up from where he squatted, changing out the empty gas canister for the full one. When he caught Matt looking, he raised one eyebrow and, in a voice barely audible, said, “The grill didn’t do that.”

  For one long moment their eyes met, and again Matt felt irrational fear claw at the inside of his mind. ::Jordan, oh, God. Oh, shit. He knows. He knows.::

  Then Vic’s soothing presence enveloped his thoughts. ::What’s he going to say?:: Vic reasoned.

  ::And besides, who’d believe him anyway?::

  * * * *

  Inside Kyle’s small bathroom, Vic plopped down on the closed toilet seat and let Matt pull his hand into the sink. With the water on full blast, Matt cradled the hand in both of his, using his thumbs to gently rub over the dozen scratches and scrapes. He concentrated on the task and kept a tight rein on his mind, where wild thoughts bucked and pulled against his nerves, threatening to break free, race away, and drag him down with them.

  Beside him, Vic was silent. He watched Matt without a word, his own thoughts guarded behind those blue eyes that took in everything around him and gave nothing back. Matt glanced at those eyes, hooded, unreadable, then turned back to the sink and the task of cleaning Vic’s wounds. An odd time for his lover to decide to keep to himself, Matt mused. What was Vic thinking? Then again, what could he say to change things now?

  Once the blood washed away, Matt saw that the cuts and nicks riddling Vic’s skin were superficial. A patch along the top of his palm was raw, the skin burned away, and when Matt wiped at the blood there, more bright red beads welled up. And there was one tiny twisted sliver of aluminum stuck in the center of Vic’s palm, but with the help of a pair of tweezers from Kyle’s first aid kit, Matt dug it out before his lover could flinch. Turning off the faucet, Matt wrapped Vic’s hand in a fluffy bath towel, careful as he patted the wounds. The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “I think you’ll live,” he pronounced.

  Silence.

  Matt’s smile faltered as he turned toward his lover. “Vic—”

  Pain dulled those bright eyes. “Matt,” Vic said, his voice soft between them. Inside the towel, he closed his hand around Matt’s with a comforting squeeze. “Don’t keep me out.”

  “I’m not,” Matt said, surprised.

  “Let me in,” Vic pleaded. He tapped on the side of his head and added, “I’m on your side here, Matty. I’m not the bad guy.”

  Too late, Matt realized that in his effort to keep Jordan from his thoughts, he’d closed the mental connection he shared with his lover. No wonder it was so damn quiet in his head! With a conscious effort that felt like flinging a window wide on the first warm day after a long, desolate winter, Matt relaxed his mind. His thoughts unfurled like sails filling with a stiff breeze, clearing out his emotions.

  The moment his block was gone, Vic rushed in. His lover chased away anything detrimental, anything bad. All thoughts of Jordan disappeared beneath Vic’s psychic caress, and Matt felt a warmth fill him up inside, a love that made everything else pale beside it. ::There,:: Vic announced—still silent, his lips never moved, but Matt felt the word echo within him like the toll of a bell. ::That’s much better.::

  With a sigh, Matt sank down to perch on Vic’s knee. “I’m sorry,” he breathed as his lover hugged him back against his broad chest. “I’m just…God, Vic. Jordan. Here. What the fuck, you know?”

  If Matt stopped to think about it, he wouldn’t find it such a surprise. He’d grown up in Chester, a small city about a half hour’s drive south of the state capital. He’d gone to college in the northern part of the state, but didn’t enjoy living so close to the madhouse that was D.C., so after graduation he compromised and found a place in Richmond. Far enough away from his parents, who still lived in Chester, to consider himself “on his own,” but near enough if he should have to go home, though he knew he didn’t visit as often as he could. His parents were in their late sixties now, and spent more time on cruise ships than they did at home. Matt knew he wasn’t the only one from his high school class who still lived close by—every now and then he’d run into a former classmate around town, on the bus or in the store, or idling at the stop light, waiting for it to change. He’d seen a number of old friends in passing, kids he used to sit next to at lunch, kids from his gym class, kids he’d known since grade school, graduated now with families of their own. He even recognized their children at the pool.

  But it was one thing to chat with a woman in line at the grocery store because her locker used to be beside his on the back hall senior year. It was another thing to run into the first guy he ever fucked at an ex’s cookout.

  Matt couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. He didn’t know how he felt about seeing Jordan again, or how he should feel. The recent phone calls had seemed to come out of the blue, but Matt knew Jordan had read about the shooting in the paper, same as the reporters who’d tracked him down for his side of the story. His name was mentioned, the paper said he worked at the gym…it just took a little sleuthing to work out which gym had a diLorenzo on staff. It wasn’t exactly a common name. The first phone call had been a definite shock; the second disturbed him more, because it suggested that Jordan planned to call until he caved in.

  Thank God Vic had been there for that second call.

  As he wrapped his lover’s injured hand in clean white gauze, covering a large bandage that rested in Vic’s palm to stop the bleeding, Matt struggled to figure out what it was he felt. He’d been full of himself just a half hour earlier, flirting with Vic as if they were alone, touching his lover’s body, claiming him with kisses they usually kept out of the public eye. Kyle’s discomfort emboldened Matt, egged him on—though he had nothing to prove, he still couldn’t help rubbing it in his ex’s face. See? he wanted to say whenever Kyle looked his way. He wasn’t a frigid bastard or a cock tease, someone who kept his pants on and firmly belted despite all efforts to get into them. It wasn’t me, it was you. He wanted Kyle to see just how loving he could be, just how completely he could give himself to another, the right other.

  To Vic.

  Matt frowned at the gauze as he continued to wind it around Vic’s hand. His lover’s lips rested on the back of Matt’s neck, just below the hairline, and every so often, Vic’s tongue would lick out and taste Matt’s skin. ::You’re too good to me,:: Vic mused, the thought passing between them unbidden. ::What would I do without you?::

  Aloud, Matt teased, “Bleed to death, I suspect.”

  A different answer rose in his mind and before Matt could tamp it down, Vic plucked it like a weed from his thoughts. ::Without me, you wouldn’t have these damn powers. You wouldn’t have blown up the cooler, and you wouldn’t be bleeding right now. Without me—::

  Vic snipped the rest of that thought off like a bruised bud and threw it away. ::Without you, I’m not me,:: he answered, his lips pressed against Matt’s nape, as if he could pour his own thoughts and emotions into Matt, fill him up with the love he felt and crush any doubts that might remain.

  * * * *

  The minutes passed, each one long and drawn out, like warm taffy on a hot day. Outside Matt could hear laughter, the splash of water in the pool, male voices calling out to each other. Once he heard Kyle in the kitchen, slamming cabinet doors and yelling for them to hurry up, the food was about to hit the grill. Then footsteps creaked across the hardwood floor to stop on the other side of the closed bathroom door; even without Vic’s super powers, Matt knew it was their host,
hovering, an ear against the door and one hand raised to knock as he debated on whether or not to interrupt them. Matt heard or imagined he heard faint measured breath, and he wrapped Vic’s injured hand in both of his, waiting Kyle out.

  Vic spoke, startling him. “We’ll be right out,” he said, his voice gruff and loud in the small bathroom.

  Kyle knocked on the door twice in confirmation. “You all right in there?”

  “Fine,” Matt replied. He waited for the footsteps that led Kyle away, then stood with a stretch. The bathroom was so close, so intimate, that he was loathe to leave it. And what, go back out there? With Kyle, and Jordan, and God knew who else?

  Reading his mind, Vic pressed his face into the small of Matt’s back and murmured, “You want to ditch this party?”

  “No.”

  If they left now, what would be said? Jordan would think Matt was running away, Kyle would think Vic had been more injured than he was, and everyone else would think these few quiet moments spent together had been a booty call they were rushing home to finish. No, he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to run and hide. Why should he? What had he done wrong?

  No, he could do this. Vic’s arms eased around his waist, hugging him tight, infusing him with strength. With Vic at his side, what would Jordan say? What could he say? His own boyfriend was here; regardless of whatever shit he’d been talking on the phone, Matt suspected that Jordan wouldn’t be so quick to bother him with Kyle nearby. And if he did?

  Well, Matt didn’t think Vic would stand for that.

  “Damn straight,” his lover growled, his voice reverberating down Matt’s spine. “You enjoy yourself, Matty. You hear? Let me deal with that ass. If he so much as looks at you, I’ll blow his fucking head up next.”

  With a laugh, Matt stroked Vic’s arms. “I like this side of you,” he admitted. “So…possessive.”

  “You’re mine,” Vic said, “and I ain’t giving you up any time soon.”

  * * * *

  Chapter 17

  After the cool interior of the house, the bright sunlight outside made Matt squint as he stepped onto Kyle’s back porch. The smell and sizzle of grilling burgers filled the air. At the bottom of the porch steps, Jordan stood over the hot grill, a pair of tongs in hand, an unctuous grin on his wide lips. Kyle was nearby, arranging burger buns on a platter. From where he stood on the porch, Matt could see sun-pinked scalp shining through Kyle’s light, thinning hair. It was silly really, to let these two men frighten him. But the wrong word from Jordan could ruin Vic’s life. If anyone else found out about his powers? The source of them?

  A strong hand touched the small of Matt’s back—Vic. An instant comfort swelled in him, chasing off the panic that circled his thoughts. In a low growl, his lover muttered, “The sooner we eat, the sooner we can get out of here.”

  Matt let Vic steer him toward the porch steps. Noticing them, Kyle wandered over and planted his hands on his hips as he looked them over. “Everything all right?” he wanted to know. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Matt said. At the slight frown on Kyle’s face, he laughed, a nervous, shaky sound. “Oh, you mean Vic. He’s fine. No harm done.”

  Kyle gave Vic a quick smile, relieved. “That’s good to know. I’m sorry it had to happen to you.”

  From the corner of his vision, Matt saw Vic glower at Kyle. In Matt’s mind, he asked, ::Who else would it have happened to?::

  Matt gave his lover a playful nudge in the side. “Vic, hush,” he murmured.

  Kyle’s frown was back as he glanced between them. Too late, Matt realized Vic hadn’t spoken out loud. To cover his slip, he descended the steps and leaned toward Kyle, lowering his voice as he asked, “So that’s your new…boyfriend?”

  “Jordan?” Kyle’s face cleared; he turned a sunny smile to Matt’s old classmate, but Jordan was busy talking to one of the other guests and didn’t return that grin. Kyle didn’t seem to mind. “What a great guy, I’m telling you. But hey, he says you already know each other?”

  Matt felt his blood run cold, and Vic rubbed his back in a soothing gesture as if to ward off the chill. What had Jordan said about him? About Vic?

  Before he could respond, Kyle laughed. “Small world, isn’t it? He says you two dated in high school, or something.”

  “Or something,” Matt mumbled. He needed a drink, a glass to hold onto, or a can to hide behind. Preferably alcoholic, if that wasn’t asking too much. Frowning at a chunk of white Styrofoam on the sidewalk, all that remained of the cooler, he asked, “Do you have any more beer? Maybe something a little…I don’t know, stronger? I thought I heard something about cocktails.”

  At the sudden leer on Kyle’s face, he tried to remember how the invitation had read—had there been a dash or ampersand between the words “cock” and “tail?” That was an old joke of Kyle’s, a pseudo-innocent way of referring to sex, one Matt never found all that funny. “I mean to drink,” he clarified. The last thing he needed was Vic to punch Kyle for some off-color remark.

  Kyle glanced past Matt and his smile slipped a notch or two; he didn’t have to read minds to interpret the black look on Vic’s face. Clearing his throat, Kyle pointed at the far side of the pool, where a high, narrow table stood, flanked by a pair of wooden barstools. “Got a bit of a dry bar going. You want something mixed? Or straight up?” He gave Matt a wink. “How drunk do you want to get?”

  “Shit-faced,” Matt muttered. He caught Vic’s hand in his and gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze before he followed Kyle to the bar and the prospect of getting wasted.

  Settling for a rum and Coke, he drank down half the glass in one gulp, then had Kyle top it off with more Bacardi. As the alcohol hit his system, he felt the knot in his stomach loosen, and for the first time since Jordan’s arrival, Matt began to relax. A few more drinks and he wouldn’t give a shit who Kyle had invited to the party—he’d be horny as hell and looking to pull Vic aside. Not that he needed an excuse…

  After he emptied the first drink, he filled the glass again, all rum this time. Sipping his drink, Matt navigated around the edge of the pool to where his lover still stood by the porch. With a seductive grin, Matt closed the distance between them, his gaze never leaving Vic’s chiseled features. It was as if they were alone, just the two of them; the rest of the party, Kyle and Jordan, the world, had disappeared. Instead of just stopping next to Vic, Matt pressed his whole body against his lover’s side, wrapping his arms around biceps that bulged with muscle as he leaned into them. Propping his chin on Vic’s shoulder, Matt purred, “Hey there, sexy.”

  There was a slight smirk on Vic’s face, and his eyes glittered with faint amusement. “I see you got a drink.”

  As his lover’s arm came up around his waist, Matt snuggled against him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “I say that,” Vic countered, “like I think I’m getting lucky tonight.”

  Matt laughed. Alcohol went straight from his lips to his dick. It was a proven fact—even a can of beer was enough to get him going. Add Vic into the mix, and Matt only hoped they managed to get a bite to eat before he started stripping off his clothes.

  * * * *

  When the burgers were done, Jordan scooped them off the grill onto a plate Kyle held out for him. As the other guests jostled for a position at the table, grabbing paper plates and burger buns and spoons full of potato salad, Matt wandered to the bar again. His glass was running low. To Vic, he asked, “Fix me a plate, will you? I’ll be right there.”

  At the bar he stopped to look back. Vic’s bulk made him easy to spot among Kyle’s other friends. His white muscle T-shirt gleamed in the setting sun, making the skin on his arms look darker than it really was. His bald pate shone from the liberal amount of sun block Matt had rubbed onto it in the car on their way to the cookout; the black tattoo on the back of his neck glistened with sweat. For a long moment Matt stood there, leaning against the bar, watching his lover. Vic stood out from all the rest, a cut above the others. Mine,
Matt told himself, and the thought washed through him with warmth, like brandy curling down his throat to pool in the pit of his stomach. Opening his mind, Matt sent a wave of that feel-good emotion Vic’s way, chasing it down with one thought. ::I love you.::

  Across the pool, Vic’s harsh mouth turned up in a faint smile. With a glance over his shoulder at Matt, he asked, ::You coming back sometime today? Or are you just going to stand over there and watch me the rest of the night?::

  ::I like what I see,:: Matt teased. Then he shook his glass, rattling the ice cubes inside. ::Give me a minute to freshen up. I’ll be right there.::

  ::One minute,:: Vic agreed as he moved closer to the food table. ::Then I’m coming to get you.::

  Matt saw him reach through the crowd to snag two plates. The guy beside him started to complain, but one hard look from Vic silenced him. With a laugh, Matt circled the bar. On the side facing away from the pool, shelves lined the inside of the wooden bar. The two bottom shelves held a veritable wealth of alcohol—bottles of cheap wine, whiskey, tequila, some beer, the rum Matt wanted. There were a few cans of soda as well, Coke and some lemon-lime mess that went in the fruitier drinks, and an insulated bucket of ice cubes sat well back on an upper shelf, in the relative coolness of the shade. Along the top of the bar, clean glasses waited to be filled.

  Tipping his glass over, Matt shook his melting ice out onto the grass and crouched down behind the bar. There he added fresh ice, which cracked and popped when the warm rum trickled over it. He filled the glass to the top, sipped off the excess, and filled it up again. Thank God Vic was driving. Though if the sweet ache in his crotch were any indication, Matt didn’t think they’d make it home. Maybe they could find an empty parking lot, or a dark shoulder on the side of the road, somewhere they’d be alone. Matt shifted his weight from foot to foot and felt the lust coiled at his groin spring to life. His jeans pressed down on a swollen erection that throbbed for release. Maybe they wouldn’t even make it to the car. Maybe Matt could commandeer Kyle’s bathroom again, Vic wouldn’t mind…