by J. M. Snyder
Vic ran an arm around Matt’s shoulders and pulled him into a tight, one-armed hug. “Calm down,” he murmured, planting a brusque kiss on his lover’s temple. “Nothing will happen to you. I won’t let it.”
Then, remembering they were in public, he let his hand drop to the middle of Matt’s back. When the line in front of them moved, he guided Matt along with it. At the counter now, Vic began to unload their groceries onto the conveyor belt. Matt hesitated, then followed suit. “What about when I’m at work?” he wanted to know. “Jordan called me there.”
“I’ll take you to work,” Vic assured him. “And pick you up in the evening on my way home from the garage. Is Roxie still screening your calls?”
When Jordan first found Matt, he’d called the gym twice. Both calls had unnerved Matt, and he arranged for the gym’s receptionist to only send back calls she knew were legitimate. Since then, Matt’s office phone rarely rang. One time he’d overheard Roxie questioning his chlorine supplier, and thought maybe she had a sadistic streak that thrived on such interrogation. “Who’s calling?” she asked, and then, “From where? Who are you with? What is the nature of your business? What’s your phone number? Is it important he speaks with you today?” He received all his calls on little pink pieces of paper now, and the only person ever patched through to his office was Vic.
Vic picked that memory from Matt’s mind and grinned. The gesture felt plastic and fake to him, but it eased the tension running through his lover’s body, if just a little. Vic felt Matt’s muscles relax through the psychic connection they shared. “You’ll be fine, then. She’ll keep them at bay, and if anyone gets past her, I’ll kick their ass.”
Matt sighed. “Vic—”
But Vic silenced him with another quick kiss, this one on the lips. He didn’t care who saw it. “What do you think I have these powers for?” he asked Matt. “Why do you think you give them to me? To protect you. That’s my sole mission in life, Matty, and I learned it the hard way. I won’t lose you again. Not to anyone.”
Chapter 2
As Vic drove them home, Matt read the full article in the car. Though Jordan’s name was never mentioned, Matt knew it had to be him. He could practically hear the asshole’s voice in his mind as he read the words on the paper.
And the fact that the fucker gave out his name, Christ! Why not just call him “Matt?” Why “M. diLorenzo?” According to the reporter, the partial use of his name was to protect his identity, but Vic was right—how many diLorenzos were there in Virginia? It wasn’t exactly an everyday, household name. There was only one diLorenzo listed in the phone book, and that was his father.
Thank God his name is David. If it were Mark or Michael or anything that started with an M, people would think Matt’s father was the one mentioned in the article and, Jesus, but he didn’t even want to think about that.
Matt suppressed a shudder at the thought of the phone calls his parents were likely to get. They knew their only son was gay, but he didn’t think they’d find it very funny if anonymous strangers began calling to hook up with him.
Should he tell them himself then? Give them a head’s up about what might happen in the next few days? “Hey, Mom, Dad, remember that kid Jordan I used to know back in high school? You probably never knew we were sexually active back then—I mean, we were just teenagers, what did we know? But now he’s told a tabloid that he got super powers from me when we fucked and I’m thinking maybe someone might call the house looking to get in touch with me—you know, someone who wants those powers for himself. So if that happens, can you just tell them you don’t know me? Thanks, I love you, bye.”
Yeah, that would go over big. His mom was still adjusting to Vic’s presence in Matt’s life; she had no clue about the powers. It was a part of himself Matt had kept from his parents—hell, from the world. He’d discovered his strange ability with Jordan, but he never told anyone about it before Vic. He’d never trusted anyone else the way he trusted his lover. The secret had been safe between them.
Until now.
Pulling to a stop in front of their apartment building, Vic yanked up the parking brake and flicked his hand at the paper in Matt’s grip. “Put that thing away, will you?” he asked as he turned off the car. “You can’t let him get to you.”
“Easy for you to say.” Matt folded the paper in half again and again, until it was a bulky square he shoved into one of the plastic grocery bags at his feet. “Your name’s not in it.”
Vic had started to step out of the car. At Matt’s muttered words, he froze; a moment later, he pulled his leg back inside the vehicle and slammed the door shut. Matt pouted at Vic as his lover turned toward him, the look on his face thunderous.
“I’m sorry,” Matt sighed. “I’m just shook up right now, Vic. You know that. I don’t mean to take it out on you—”
“Matty.” Vic’s steady voice reverberated through him, accompanied by a mental rush of love that ignited Matt’s veins like lines of kerosene. “Listen. You’re right, it’s not my name in there. It’s yours. And that matters more to me than if they’d printed the number to my cell beneath the words For a Good Time Call. I can deal with idiots tracking me down through that paper. I can protect myself. It’s you I’m worried about.”
A dull anger rose in Matt. It wasn’t Vic’s fault, he tried to remind himself, but that was cold comfort. His name was in that paper, his secret blabbed to the world. “I’m sure I’ll handle it,” he muttered, crossing his arms in a huff. “I lived on my own for quite a while without your help, Vic. I’m not completely helpless.”
His lover sighed, and his next words spoke directly into Matt’s mind. ::I know you’re not, Matty. But I will be if I lose you.::
A tentative hand stretched across the gear shift to touch Matt’s leg. Strong fingers curled around his knee, but there was something so needy in that gesture, something so loving, that Matt’s anger dispersed before it. This was not Vic’s fault. Unfurling his arms, he eased his fingers into his lover’s palm, then raised that hand to his lips and kissed the rough knuckles. With a slow smile, he gave Vic a shy glance and tugged on his hand, pulling him closer. “Come here, you.”
Vic’s mouth closed over his in a real kiss, more meaningful than the quick pecks they’d stolen at the store. As Vic’s tongue eased between Matt’s lips, tasting him, claiming him, Matt ran his arms around his lover’s broad shoulders and pulled him close, closer, until Vic was half in the passenger seat, pressing Matt back against the car door. Between kisses, Vic murmured, “That paper’s going in the trash the minute we get inside.”
Matt ran a hand down Vic’s chest, over his belly, over his belt buckle, to fist around the growing bulge at his crotch. Unzipping Vic’s jeans, Matt delved into his lover’s fly, between the flap on his briefs, to take Vic’s stiffening dick in his hand. As his fingers encircled his lover’s shaft, Vic’s eyes slipped shut and a lusty moan escaped his throat. Suddenly he was nuzzling Matt’s neck, licking him, sucking, as his hips thrust against Matt’s hand. With a breathy laugh, Matt teased, “If that’s the first thing you want to do when we’re finally alone…”
Teeth nipped at Matt’s neck in a sexy, playful bite. “You said we had to wait,” Vic reminded him. “You wanted to make love on the stroke of midnight, remember? Our anniversary.”
Massaging the front of Vic’s jeans, Matt kissed his lover’s earring-studded lobe and blew softly in his ear. Vic shuddered above him, arms grasping Matt to pull him close. “What’s wrong with a little foreplay?” Before Vic could answer, Matt added, “Inside.”
Vic reached behind him and opened the car door. Matt tumbled out to land on his backside on the curb. The chill from the sidewalk immediately seeped through his jeans, and he laughed as Vic clambered from the car. His lover’s face was slack with lust, and the fly on his jeans gaped open, the pink tip of his cock peeking out. As the cold December air played over the sensitive skin, Vic’s dick jerked to attention. Vic’s voice was thick with desire when he growled,
“Lead the way.”
“Hello to you, too,” Matt joked. “You’re dangling.”
“What?” Standing, Vic glanced down and saw his erection jutting from his crotch. Quickly he tucked it back into his pants and zipped up. “Shit. You’re going to get me in trouble, flashing the whole neighborhood.”
Matt held his arms out to his lover. “Help me up and you can flash me inside.”
Vic grunted as he took Matt’s hands in his and hauled his lover up off the sidewalk. “You’ve seen it before.”
With a hungry kiss that made Vic stumble back against the car, Matt purred, “Show me again.”
* * * *
Waiting had been Matt’s idea, a way to make their anniversary special, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t jonesing for a piece of his man. The last time they’d made love had been the evening of Christmas Eve; true, it’d been only one week, but Matt had never thought he’d live through those seven long days. They’d still slept together, nude bodies twined together in the bed they shared, and they’d showered together, lathering each other until they were soapy and hard, but anything more than flirtatious teasing had been off limits.
“You came up with this,” Vic reminded him every time he’d tried to take a casual kiss too far. “You said you wanted to wait.”
“I hate waiting.” His whole body yearned for Vic’s, to the point where just hearing his lover’s voice on the phone gave him an erection. “I want you now.”
But December 31st rolled around soon enough, and though every fiber of Matt’s being sizzled at the thought of celebratory sex to ring in the new year, a small part of his mind couldn’t stop dwelling on Jordan and that damn tabloid article. All throughout dinner he brooded, giving Vic a wan smile whenever his lover tried to engage his interest.
When they finished eating, he retreated to the living room and flipped through the channels on the TV, distracted, as Vic cleaned up the dishes. Matt was so lost in his own moody thoughts that he didn’t hear the water cut off in the kitchen sink, nor the cork pop when Vic opened the first bottle of wine.
He glanced up only as his lover approached, fluted glasses in one hand, a bottle of Chardonnay in the other. With a smoldering gaze, Vic asked, “You ready for the new year?”
“If it means getting drunk and getting laid,” Matt said with a laugh as he took one of the glasses from Vic, “I’m so there.”
Matt liked alcohol simply because it made him horny. He suspected Vic liked it for the same reason. His lover poured two generous glasses of the white wine, then dimmed the lamp at the end of the couch before sinking down beside Matt. The bottle sat on the coffee table before them, and the moment Vic got himself situated, Matt cuddled up against him. He clinked their glasses together in a quick toast as Vic draped an arm across his shoulders. “Here’s to us.”
While Matt drank, Vic kissed his forehead. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice gruff with emotion.
The words were almost lost in Matt’s hair, but he heard them in his mind, in his heart. Without lowering his glass, he mentally replied, ::Oh, Vic. I love you, too.::
* * * *
He downed the first glass in minutes, and poured himself a healthy refill while Vic nursed his own wine. They huddled together on the couch, the glow from the TV turning the wine crystalline. Sometime after Matt drained the last of the bottle into his glass, his hands began to roam across his lover’s lap, poking and prodding, teasing. Grasping the bunched fabric at the crotch of Vic’s jeans, Matt joked, “Is this present for me? Can I open it?”
“You wanted to wait.”
But Matt shook his head. “I don’t always get what I want. It’s close enough, isn’t it?” His fingers plucked at Vic’s zipper, easing it down an inch. “Oops.”
Vic laughed and caught Matt’s hand in his. “Oops, my ass.”
“Well,” Matt breathed, leaning toward Vic to nuzzle his chin, “since you brought it up…”
Vic kissed the tip of Matt’s nose, then obliged when Matt raised his face to catch the next kiss on his lips. “I think we need less clothes,” Vic sighed. “What do you think?”
Matt’s head buzzed pleasantly from his lover’s closeness and the alcohol humming through his system. “I think we need more wine.”
A warm smile spread across Vic’s face. “Tell you what,” he said, sitting up. Matt clung to him, unwilling to let the moment end, but Vic had other ideas. He handed his still-full glass of wine to Matt, then stood to stretch. “You finish that, and open another bottle if you want.”
“Where are you going?” Matt asked, frowning as he drank the rest of Vic’s wine.
“Bathroom.” Vic ran a hand through Matt’s curls, tousling them. “Let me freshen up a bit. Then I have a man to please.”
Matt laughed. “That man better be me, or whoever’s waiting in the bathroom for you is so dead.”
Leaning down, Vic gave him a lingering kiss that tasted as heady and alcoholic as the wine. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. “Wait for me.”
“I ain’t doing it myself,” Matt assured him.
He sank back to the couch, the empty wine glass forgotten in his hand, as he watched Vic disappear down the hall. The TV was a blur of motion and color he couldn’t quite pin down, and the darkened room only added to his drowsiness. Despite the urge to doze, his whole body jittered with nervous energy, as if electricity had replaced his blood to zoom through his veins. In the confines of his sweat pants, his cock throbbed with a steady pulse, and he eased down on the couch a little, letting his balls slip between his thighs. Squeezing his legs together sent shivers of pleasure up his spine. Absently, his hand drifted to clutch at his crotch, and he let out a low moan as he fisted his length through his pants.
No, he’d rather wait.
With great difficulty, he let go of his dick, reaching for his empty wine glass instead. Shaking his head to clear it, Matt pushed himself up from the couch and stumbled into the coffee table when he tried to snag the wine bottle. It fell on its side and rolled onto the floor with a heavy thud. Matt watched it roll beneath the table. “Whoops.”
Two seconds later, a similar sound came from the apartment below them—their neighbor banging on the ceiling. In his bare feet, Matt stomped on the floor. “Oh, fuck off!” he called out.
Vic’s voice spoke directly into his mind. ::Matty? You all right in there?::
::Asshole downstairs,:: Matt replied, as if that were answer enough. Skirting the coffee table, he considered retrieving the wine bottle from beneath it, but when he bent over to find it, he staggered forward, thrown off balance. The hell with it. Let Vic get the bottle.
Matt shuffled into the kitchen. It took him three tries to turn on the light switch with his elbow, but he didn’t want to set the wine glasses down and maybe break one in the process. Once the light flickered on, he placed the glasses carefully into the sink, where they couldn’t fall to the floor and shatter. Leaning on the counter, he stooped to retrieve another bottle of wine—a dark Burgundy, this time—and caught sight of newsprint sticking out from the trash can by the sink.
The tabloid.
As he stood, Matt snagged the paper out of the garbage. Vic had folded it in half and tucked it to one side of the can; there was a dollop of steak sauce on the back page, leftover from dinner, but Matt shucked off the cover and dropped it back into the trash. He just wanted to read the article one last time—he had to. He flipped through the tabloid quickly, looking for the grainy photograph of a prison cell that already haunted him.
The words swam out at him, maddening. His own name seemed written in neon letters, flashing in time with the beat of his heart. Why the phone wasn’t ringing off the hook already, Matt had no clue. It wouldn’t surprise him if Dick Clark interrupted the Times Square festivities for the breaking news story: Man in Virginia with Super Powered Sperm. More at Eleven.
Suddenly a firm hand pulled the paper from Matt’s grip. He turned to find Vic standing there, naked, his hard dick standing up from hi
s shaved crotch. “Matty,” he sighed. “I thought we threw this away.”
Matt’s gaze was drawn to his lover’s genitalia, the plum-colored tip of his thick cock, the hairless sac that hung beneath it. His mouth dried with lust, and his thoughts shut down on anything that wasn’t the two of them locked in a passionate embrace. When Vic said his name a second time, Matt mumbled, “I was getting more wine.”
“That’s not an answer,” Vic told him. Balling up the tabloid, he turned and shoved it deep into the garbage.
Matt stared at his lover’s plump ass and struggled against the urge to fall to his knees, pressing his face between those buttocks, licking and sucking and tasting Vic’s tender places. Almost absently, Matt tugged at the waistband of his sweat pants, wanting them off. The second bottle of wine could wait until another night. Right now, he wanted Vic in as many ways as he could have him, and then he wanted to snuggle up to his lover and sleep well into the new year.
But the muscles in Vic’s ass were clenched in anger. “It took me months to get him out of your head,” he was saying. “I won’t have him between us tonight. I just won’t.”
Reaching out, Matt touched the small of Vic’s back, where a tattooed dragon crouched at the base of Vic’s spine. He felt the muscles bunched beneath his hand, and trailed his fingers up Vic’s back to soothe his lover. “Vic, please,” he sighed. “It’s just you and me.”
Vic stood, a sad look on his face. Matt placed his hand against Vic’s cheek, cradling it. When Vic leaned into his touch, Matt gave him a slow smile. “Cut me some slack here, big guy. I’ve had a full bottle of wine and you’re asking me why I pulled something out of the trash? Like I know?” At Vic’s smirk, Matt rubbed his hand over his lover’s bald head, down the back of his neck, and added, “You know I’m a lightweight when it comes to booze and yet you go and get me drunk. So what are you gonna do about it? Huh?”
Vic’s grin turned devilish. “Oh, like it’s my fault.”
