Bonds of Love

by Snyder, J. M.

  As if goosed, Matt jerked his whole body away from Jordan. “No.”

  Jordan stood—his own erection pointed down at Matt, who thought for one brief second that the twat was going to piss on him, or jerk off again, right in his face this time. Nothing like a little bukkake to start the day off right. The thought nauseated him, and the remnants of his scant breakfast pressed against the back of his throat, threatening to come up. “No,” he said again, stronger this time, with a shake of his head to show he meant it. “Don’t even go there, Jordan. I’m warning you. I’m—”

  Jordan nudged Matt’s thigh with his foot. “Oh, shut up. Here’s my dilemma, all right? Hear me out.” He propped his hands on his hips as he frowned down at Matt, then decided to cross his arms in front of his chest instead. “These powers of yours? I’m finding they don’t quite work as well as I thought they would, the way I’m taking them.”

  “What do you mean?” Matt whispered. He knew, though—somewhere deep down inside, he knew where Jordan was going with this, and his mind screamed in protest. “How are you taking them?”

  “I ain’t shooting it up,” Jordan said with a sneer. “Jesus, Matthew. You’re not some sort of drug. I mean the way I’m taking them from you. It’s not working for me.”

  “What?” Matt asked again. “Why not? I thought—”

  Jordan spoke over him. “Apparently my non-invasive methods just aren’t cutting it, kid.”

  He made little quote marks with his fingers when he said the word non-invasive, and Matt barely managed to strangle the laugh that threatened to escape his throat. You call this non-invasive? he wanted to say, but his body ached from its bonds and the beating Jordan had given him; he wasn’t up for a second round just yet.

  “I’ve been doing a little experimenting here,” Jordan was saying. The foot that had nudged Matt’s leg was now standing on his thigh, the toes digging almost playfully into his flesh and inching closer to the cock that still stood to attention. “I figure the powers are in your semen, see. So I went about it very scientific like. You’d be proud. Each specimen I collected was bagged and tagged. I tried some immediately after you got off—that worked the best, gave me this little buzz I guess you’d say. I didn’t move mountains or anything, but I felt it, all right.”

  Specimen I collected…as if Matt were just some laboratory animal being tested and used.

  Jordan continued, talking out loud as if Matt gave a flying fuck what his little “experiments” had uncovered. “But if I let it cool,” he said, so scientific, it, “the rush I got lessened. I froze some…thought that might slow the breakdown of whatever it is in you that causes these abilities. But nope, nothing. And I can’t get it back by reheating it either. As good as you taste going down—” He winked, and Matt felt the bile rise in his throat again. “The powers disappear almost immediately after your juices ejaculate. Which means what?”

  “I don’t know,” Matt muttered, but that was a lie—he knew exactly where Jordan was leading him. His mind kicked up a notch, screaming Vic’s name into the psychic realm, so high pitched Matt was surprised he didn’t hear any dogs outside begin to bark and whine. “I don’t know, Jordan, and I really don’t want to know. If you let me go, I swear I won’t call the cops or anything. I swear I’ll just go home, I’ll tell Vic I was at a friend’s, I won’t get you in trouble, please. Just please.” Hot tears stung his eyes and he blinked them back, his voice cracking as he begged, “Please, Jordan. Just let me go.”

  In an instant, Jordan was kneeling beside him, hands soothing as he stroked Matt’s fevered brow. “Shh, Matthew, it’s all right. I’ve been going about this all wrong. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Yeah, right.

  With a soul-wrenching sigh, Matt turned from Jordan to stare at a spot on the wall. Over the cry of his lover’s name in his mind, he scarcely heard Jordan’s blubbering apology. Though he tried to tune it out, Jordan kept touching him, hands straying down his chest and over his cock, subtle touches that underlined his words and wouldn’t let Matt focus on Vic. “It’s the only way,” Jordan said as his fingers closed over the head of Matt’s dick, tugged once, then let go. “Believe me, I tried to avoid it. I mean, I’m the one who’s going to get screwed here, for all intents and purposes. I’m the one taking the hit. But if we have to do it, we might as well both enjoy it, right?”

  “What?”

  Matt felt strong hands ease into his armpits. He tried to shake them off, squirm away, but Jordan overpowered him. With a mighty heft, he hoisted Matt up onto the bed. When Matt’s shoulders struck the mattress, Jordan stood, grabbed Matt’s ankles, and carried them around the foot of the mattress until Matt lay stretched on Kyle’s guest bed. As Jordan ducked into the bathroom, Matt cried out, “What are you going to do?”

  He hated the fear he heard in his own voice. From the bathroom came the splash of water in the sink and a stupid, easy-going whistle as Jordan mucked about out of sight. “Jordan?” Matt called, his voice an octave higher than he liked. “What are you…what—no.”

  Jordan came back into the bedroom, his bathrobe open, exposing pale skin and a thick, shapeless waist. His cock stood fully erect from a bed of light brown hair. One hand toyed with his dick, keeping himself aroused. Some sort of lotion or lubricant on his fingers left glistening trails along his foreskin as he moved it back and forth over his erection. With an almost absurd clarity, Matt remembered what that cock felt like in his mouth. Jordan had been his first, after all. Matt had never imagined, all those years ago, that he’d find himself dreading what once excited the boy he had been.

  In Jordan’s other hand was the bottle of lube. There was a hint of a smile on Jordan’s face as he sank down to the bed to sit beside Matt, who lay on his side to keep from crushing his hands beneath his own weight. As if they were lovers and this just another prelude to sex, Jordan squirted a healthy dollop of lube in his hand, then reached for Matt’s thick shaft. His damn unthinking cock stood beneath Jordan’s touch, quivering as the warming lotion was smeared along its length. Matt closed his eyes, as tight as he dared, and tried to take himself away from this bed, this man, this degrading moment. The last thing he wanted was to be straddled by this fat fucker, to feel that hot flabby ass slide down over his shaft—

  His cock jumped in Jordan’s hand, eager to be so encased, eager to be worshipped and squeezed and stroked. “Good boy,” Jordan murmured, tickling along his length. “Now this ain’t so bad, is it?”

  Matt bit back a sob that choked him. Inside his mind, he retreated to a safe place that looked like his bedroom at home. He stood in one corner, his back to the sensations that roiled through him, the bodily functions over which he had no control. He wouldn’t be a party to this. He wouldn’t give in, wouldn’t give up…

  Heated lips closed over one nipple; his dick jerked in response. “That’s it,” Jordan murmured, his breath hot on Matt’s chest, drying the kiss of saliva that clung to his teat. When Jordan nipped the hard bud between his teeth, Matt’s hips thrust toward him, against his will. No, Matt wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out but a whimper of lust. No, no, no.

  Like a serpent, Jordan slithered onto him, easing Matt back against the bed as he climbed into place. His hard cock pressed alongside Matt’s own, then Jordan slid up, sitting on Matt’s pubic mound, Matt’s erection throbbing in the cleft between Jordan’s buttocks. “Don’t worry about going easy on me,” Jordan was saying, his hands slathering lubricant across Matt’s rock hard nipples as he rubbed over Matt’s dick with his balls, his ass. “I like it rough.”

  Far away, so goddamn far that it seemed like another world, another life, Matt heard glass shatter to a tile floor. Then a flood of strength filled him, and wave after wave of unbounded love flooded him like rising waters of a storm. A familiar voice spoke like a god in his mind, canceling out Jordan and everything that wasn’t the one man Matt loved. ::Matty?::

  Jordan leaned down close to Matt, one finger cocked under Matt’s c
hin. With Matt fighting every step of the way, Jordan turned his face towards him. Just before their lips could meet, Matt took a deep breath. Perhaps Jordan thought he was giving in—something shone in his face, an eagerness, anticipating consent.

  Then Matt screamed, at the top of his lungs, as loud as he could cry out with both throat and mind, “I’M IN HERE, VIC!”

  * * * *

  Chapter 28

  For one glorious second, confusion flickered across Jordan’s face. Matt felt a smug grin tug at his lips. His head filled with a roar of vengeance so loud, Matt was surprised Jordan didn’t hear it escape like steam pouring from his ears. Saved, Matt wanted to crow, but the thought struck him speechless. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to frighten Jordan, but all that came out was another shout, “Vic!”

  Jordan jumped as if goosed. Before he could say anything, the door to the bedroom was ripped from its hinges, metal squealing in protest, wood splintering with a thunderous sound like judgment raining down. He didn’t even have time to glance over his shoulder before viselike fists bunched in his bathrobe and hauled him off the bed. Matt felt Jordan’s hands scramble across his body, seeking purchase, fingers tickling over sweaty, heated flesh, trying to hold on, trying to stay in control…

  Then he was chucked aside like so much dirty laundry. Matt craned his neck and saw Jordan flying across the room, where he struck the jamb of the closet door hard enough to crack the wooden molding. His eyes crossed, then rolled back into his head until the whites were exposed. A trickle of bright blood gurgled over his lower lip; it matched the blood that smeared the wall behind him, where his head hit before his limp body sank to the ground.

  Matt could feel the strength surging through the hands that touched him, but they were gentle on him, loving—nothing fearful hid in those hands, nothing harmful to him. With the softest caress, he was rolled onto his side, his face pressing into the dusty covers on Kyle’s guest bed as those strong fingers untied the knots in Matt’s bonds. He struggled against the rope, kept trying to close his numb fingers over Vic’s, and then the ties loosened, his hands slipped free, and his lover began to rub the feeling back into his wrists. “God, Matty,” Vic sighed, his gruff voice thick with emotion. “That fucker is dead. I’m telling you, he’s so dead.”

  It felt wonderful to bring his arms around to the front of his body again, to push against the bed with his hands, to grasp at the covers with his fingers. Vic untied his ankles, tossing both the rope and Matt’s shorts together to the floor. Then Matt turned toward him, arms reaching for the safety of Vic’s embrace. “I’m sorry,” his lover was saying, his face crumpled like a used tissue. “I’m so sorry, Matty. I tried all night to find you…”

  Vic sat on the edge of the bed. Reaching for him, Matt clambered into his lover’s lap, pulling up his legs to make himself as small as possible to fit in the span of Vic’s muscled arms. His hands ran over a smooth scalp, the nape of Vic’s neck, the shoulders that shook as Vic held him tight. Hiding his face against Vic’s chest, Matt breathed in deep his lover’s scent and couldn’t find anything to say except, “It’s all right, Vic. I’m all right.”

  He clung to his lover with a fierce grip, as if that alone could make his words come true.

  They sat huddled together for long, drawn out minutes, maybe hours. Matt had no sense of time, and now with Vic holding him, no sense of urgency, either. Each passing moment, he folded down farther into himself, letting Vic’s love fill the hollow spots inside him that Jordan had carved out of his soul. The longer he kept quiet, the harder it was to speak again, and he found himself burrowing down into his own mind, content to let Vic take over. Matt’s eyes were blank, unblinking, staring out blindly as if he couldn’t be bothered to show interest in the world around him. His hands gripped Vic’s shoulders, the thick biceps, holding on as his mind slipped farther away.

  Energy burst through Matt and he realized Vic was standing. He clawed at Vic’s shoulders, unwilling to let go just yet, but he didn’t have to worry—Vic held him as if he were an injured child, one arm strong beneath Matt’s back, the other holding his legs up off the ground. With a dark glance at Jordan, still unconscious, Vic muttered, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  He carried Matt to the guest bath, just off the bedroom. From the doorway, they could see Jordan, but the blood that painted the wall behind his head suggested the guy wasn’t going to be moving any time soon. Nudging aside the shower curtain, Vic started to lower Matt into the bathtub, but Matt refused to let go. “Come on, Matty,” Vic cajoled, the grit in his voice subdued, as if he spoke to a frightened animal. “Work with me here, will you? I need you to wash up.”

  Slowly Matt relaxed the death grip he kept on Vic, one muscle at a time. An eternity yawned before him as he stretched one leg down, down, until his foot connected with the cool porcelain of the tub; then he lowered the other foot. But when Vic tried to stand, Matt reached for his tank top again, unwilling to give up the contact he’d been craving for so long. “No.”

  “It’s okay,” Vic assured him. Patiently he plucked Matt’s hands from his shirt and held them in his own. “I’m right here, Matty. Right here. Look at me.”

  When Matt glanced up, he felt his lower lip tremble with exhaustion and relief. “Vic…” he started, unsure of what to say or do to keep his lover close. All he knew was that he never, ever wanted to let Vic out of his sight.

  “It’s okay,” Vic said again. Leaning into the shower, he ran a hand through Matt’s sweaty black curls; his fingers eased around the back of Matt’s neck, strong and sure. Faint breath fanned his cheek, then Vic’s lips touched his, so soft, so unlike the rest of his lover’s hard, unyielding body, that any tenuous resolve building in Matt was kissed away. Matt felt the first hitch in his breath as he opened to Vic’s tenderness. It seemed like years had passed since he’d been kissed like this, and his hands bunched in the front of Vic’s tank top, unwilling to give this up, this.

  But a groan from the bedroom made Vic pull away. “Later,” he promised.

  Matt blinked back hot tears and sighed, a heart-wrenching sound that made Vic grab him in a tight bear hug. “You get washed up,” Vic told him.

  Matt nodded, yes, he could do that.

  “Let me take care of things here,” Vic continued. Catching the hem of the T-shirt Matt still wore bolero-style, he eased it off as Matt raised his arms above his head, then tossed it to the floor before he kissed Matt again. “By the time you’re done in the shower, I’ll be ready to go.”

  Matt nodded again but just stood there, nude, like a recalcitrant child. He stared down the flat lines of his body, which felt awkward and dumb, a child’s drawing of the man he used to be. His chest and stomach were smeared with lubricant, saliva, and Jordan’s dried spunk. Farther down, below his waist, everything burned and hummed, as if his genitals suffered a low-grade fever. With the overhead light off, his big ugly feet looked so damn dark against the shining white tub, his toes pointing out the drain. Between his feet, his dick still stood at half mast, unsure what was going to happen now but not quite ready to give up its slight erection just yet.

  When Matt didn’t move toward the faucet, Vic took charge of the situation. He turned on the water, stuck his hand under the tap, waited until the temperature felt right. With a tug on the lever, the water dried up from the tap and shot from the shower head, a hot, steady stream of water that beat down around Matt in fat, fast drops. He raised his face into the spray, his whole body relaxing.

  But fear gripped him when Vic pulled the shower curtain shut. “Vic?” he cried out. “Don’t—”

  “I’m right here,” Vic assured him, his words drowned out by the shower’s deluge. Sensing Matt’s fear, Vic sighed into his mind, ::I’m not leaving without you. I promise.::

  Matt nodded. Standing in the shower, he opened their mental connection as wide as it would go—everything in him became acutely attuned to everything in Vic. If he closed his eyes, he could even see what Vic saw,
the bedroom, the mussed sheets of the bed, Jordan still slumped in one corner of the room like a forgotten rag doll. Matt bent his head beneath the shower’s spray and let the water rain around him as he watched the scene in the bedroom play out like a movie—it was that removed from him, that unreal.

  With slow, measured steps, Vic crossed the room to stand before Jordan. His fists clenched at his sides, and he stared at the other man so hard, so long, that Matt wondered if Vic wasn’t trying to punish Jordan somehow with his mind. ::Vic…:: He tried to peer around a low wall in his lover’s mind. ::What are you doing? What—::

  The wall expanded, blocking Matt out. ::Hey!:: he cried, and he hit the barrier with all his might, raging against his lover’s mental blockade. ::Let me in there. I deserve to see this.::

  The obstruction that kept him from Vic grew transparent, like a window he could see through, but closed off to keep him at bay. It separated Matt from the main part of Vic’s mind, where his lover had tapped into Jordan’s psyche and was watching the events of the past day unfold before him. Even in his head, his body blocked Matt’s view—he could peer over Vic’s shoulder to see just enough to tell him what he was seeing, but whenever he tried to sidestep Vic or break through the wall, he found himself blocked. His lover wouldn’t let him relive the details of the past twenty-four hours; he didn’t even want to nurse the moments from Matt’s consciousness. Instead he took them from Jordan, tore them from his head, ripped them from his soul.