by J. M. Snyder
“It’s a ring of rubber that goes around a certain part of the male anatomy,” Vic explained. “It’s sort of a sex toy, I guess, and normally just prolongs an erection. Why am I telling you this?”
“Because the church-going Southern Baptist in me is sexually repressed.” She giggled, a girly sound that made Vic shake his head. “I had no idea guys would even want something like that. I mean, why—”
“I’m not going into detail,” Vic told her, the steel in his voice silencing any further questions. “They exist, all right? I’m sure you can look them up online or something if you really want to learn more.”
Kendra nodded. With difficulty, she wiped the grin from her face. “Okay,” she agreed. As she studied her notes, a thin line creased her forehead, then deepened when she frowned. “But wait—how does that negate the powers?”
Quickly, Vic recounted what the doctor had said about the electric charge. She wrote it all down in that little notepad of hers. When he was finished, Kendra asked, “And you believed him?”
Vic shrugged. “Come on now,” she said. “You still had the powers then. Don’t tell me you didn’t read his mind to see—”
“I couldn’t. He had some damn jingle playing through his head that hid his thoughts.” That fact still bothered Vic—he’d been unable to get past the doctor’s defenses. Why had the doctor blocked him? And how would he know to do that in the first place?
For a long moment, Kendra stared at him. Vic didn’t have to read her mind to know what she was thinking, and soon enough, she admitted out loud, “That sounds awfully suspicious to me. You’d use something given to you by someone you don’t know just because he said it might work?”
“Yeah, well.” Vic sighed. “When you put it that way, I’ll admit it sounds stupid, but this was what Matt wanted.”
Under her breath, Kendra muttered, “And what Matt wants, he gets.” When Vic glared at her, she gave him a wan smile. “The question is, Vic, what do you want?”
The answer was simple. “I want Matt happy.”
Chapter 8
As Matt used a pair of tongs to extract the chuck roast from the slow cooker, he threw a worried glance at the clock above the stove. Vic should’ve been home by now. Usually Matt picked up the threads of their mental connection when Vic was only two blocks from their apartment, and the signal strengthened as he approached. But here it was almost eight thirty in the evening, and no sign of him yet…
In the foyer, a key scraped in the lock on the front door, startling Matt. The roast slid from the tongs to splash into the liquid at the bottom of the slow cooker. “Shit,” Matt muttered, grabbing a nearby hand towel to wipe up the counter. In the other room, he heard the front door open and shut, and the clatter of keys as they dropped to the phone table. Raising his voice, Matt called out, “That better be you.”
Vic sounded defeated. “It’s me. Who else has keys to the place?”
With a laugh, Matt left the roast to marinate in its juices and wiped his hands on the towel as he stepped into the hall. “Mrs. K,” he pointed out. Vic was shucking off his coat, one boot already kicked off, when Matt stepped up to him to claim a kiss. “But I seriously doubt she’d be sneaking in here for a little something something, if you know what I mean. Not when I’m home, at least. We both know she favors you.”
“She doesn’t.”
Matt cut him off with another kiss. “You blocking me for a reason, baby?” he murmured, his breath warm against Vic’s mouth. “Got something special planned for tonight you don’t want me to see?”
Vic grunted. “I ain’t blocking you. The power’s gone.”
“Gone?” Matt took a step back to frown at his lover. “So soon?”
With a shrug, Vic slipped out of his jacket, then hung it in the coat closet. He pulled off his other boot and left the pair of them beside the door. As he started to unbutton his work shirt, Matt held out a hand to stop him. “Wait. What do you mean, gone?”
“You sound like Kendra,” Vic grumbled. “Yes, it’s gone. Don’t act so surprised, Matty. You knew this was coming.”
Matt admitted, “But I didn’t think it’d happen immediately.” In the past when they had abstained from sex, the powers faded over time but never really vanished. Some remnant of the telepathy and super strength stayed in Vic’s system, even after days of abstinence. Sure, they flared stronger than ever when they finally made love, but in the interim, the powers didn’t just disappear. Not that fast.
Then he picked up on what else Vic had said. Kendra Jones, a police officer with the City… “Did you say you told Kendra?” Matt asked, incredulous. “Like, everything?”
“I had to.” Vic balled up his work shirt and pitched it down the hall, where it fell to the floor before the French doors that obscured their laundry facilities. “She was trying to recruit me again and I just said look, it ain’t happening.” With what sounded like a bitter laugh, he added, “For real this time.”
Matt started, “Vic…”
He reached out a hand for his lover, which Vic caught in both of his, and let himself be reeled into the safety of Vic’s embrace. He still felt strong to Matt. He still felt invincible. Pressing his face against Vic’s undershirt, Matt breathed in his lover’s scent, a mix of sweat and lingering aftershave that smelled incredible to him. It stirred his libido, and Matt found himself clinging to Vic, breathing deep, trying to draw him in. “I thought we’d have more time,” he whispered. “I mean, we only used it yesterday. How’s it work that quick?”
One large hand rubbed over his back, soothing him. When Vic spoke, his voice rumbled in his chest, thunderous where Matt held on tight. “I don’t know.”
Matt wrapped his arms around Vic’s waist, savoring his lover’s touch. He didn’t know either, but he knew someone who did.
When they had come home on Saturday, Matt hadn’t thought he’d ever call Dr. Channarayapatra again. The guy was a bit creepy, and Vic was right—he had been hitting on Matt. But the cock ring was his device. If anyone knew the whys and hows of it, it would be Dr. Veej.
He tried to send that thought to Vic before he remembered they weren’t communicating that way anymore. And the thought of mentioning it was too exhausting—Vic didn’t care for the doctor, and Matt knew bringing him up would only make his lover mad. Without a mental connection to share his thoughts with his lover, Matt wasn’t sure how Vic would react if he mentioned the man. He was so stoic most of the time, his stern visage hiding the mind and emotions Matt loved so much.
Pulling away from his lover, he searched those blue eyes for a hint of what lay behind them. They had always shared every little thing, every thought, every feeling, every touch. How would he know what went on inside that head of Vic’s if he couldn’t climb in there to see for himself?
I need that back, Matt thought as he studied Vic’s face. His lover’s eyes softened, but Matt wanted more than that. He wanted his lover’s presence in him. He wanted that constant reassurance that he was loved. Without it, he felt like a junkie going through withdrawal—doubts assaulted his mind, questions he wanted answered but didn’t know how to ask. When had Vic met up with Kendra? What had they talked about? Matt knew his name must’ve been mentioned—in what context? What was said of him?
And Vic’s drive home from work…he wanted to know when his lover neared the apartment, and didn’t care for the surprise of hearing a key in the lock. He wanted forewarning—Vic looked so exhausted, so drained. If Matt had known that beforehand, he could’ve met Vic at the door, helped him out of his coat and boots, massaged his back. He could’ve had dinner on the table, instead of still in the pot. There were so many things he’d grown used to over the past few years, so many little habits he’d picked up, and all that was gone now, cut off, lost.
All because of one little ring of rubber.
“Matty?” Vic asked. His voice was soft, tired. One hand touched Matt’s cheek, smoothing down faint hairs like peach fuzz. “Is that a roast I smell? Cause I’m famish
ed.”
Matt gave him a sad smile, then pressed his lips to Vic’s mouth in a gentle kiss. “You get cleaned up,” he told his lover. “I’ll have dinner on the table in five minutes. I promise.”
* * * *
That evening Vic sat up in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist as he leafed through an issue of Tattoo magazine. Matt lay beside him, head resting on Vic’s hip, one hand rubbing low over his lover’s belly. Every now and then, his fingers slipped beneath the bed sheet, tickling smooth skin that stiffened at his touch. Whenever Vic turned a page in the magazine, he reached over and ruffled Matt’s hair before focusing his attention back on the glossy pages. Beneath the sheets, Matt’s legs were entwined with Vic’s, both feet wrapped firmly around one thick calf. Matt loved this closeness, this press of bodies, this loving feeling.
But inside, he felt closed off and distant. No matter how much of his body touched Vic’s, Matt couldn’t seem to feel as if he were in tune with his lover. The silence that had once been full of camaraderie between them now stifled him—he wanted to talk just to fill it, and hated to disturb Vic’s reading with the sound of his own voice. If only he could reach out with his thoughts, savor his lover’s mental presence, feel this man beside him in ways more intimate than mere physical touch…
Clearing his throat, Matt settled into a more comfortable position, his cheek resting high up on Vic’s hip. “What are you thinking?”
He hated that he had to ask, and he hated the fact that the response wasn’t immediate. Vic took a moment to reply, as if trying to corral his thoughts together into something resembling language, something that could be spoken and shared. Or maybe he has to think up something to tell me. Matt hugged his lover closer, afraid of the paranoia with which his own fears seemed eager to sabotage him. Maybe he’s thinking of someone who isn’t me. Maybe he’s thinking of leaving me now that he doesn’t have any powers to keep him beside me. Maybe…
Vic pointed at the magazine in his hands, drawing Matt’s gaze to a photograph of a woman whose back was covered in a large tattoo that replicated a surrealist painting. Though she had her back to the camera, her arms must’ve been crossed in front of her chest, because Matt could see red-tipped fingernails extending from fingers by her shoulders. Her head was turned to show matching red bangs and the hint of a fire-engine red smile. When Vic spoke, his voice sounded gruffer than normal, unused. “Doesn’t she sort of look like Roxie?”
One thought rose unbidden in Matt’s mind before he could squelch it. You’re supposed to be thinking of me.
When he didn’t reply immediately, Vic said, “Picture her with glasses. Doesn’t she?” He frowned down at Matt, who still stared at the magazine. “Do you know if Roxie has any tats?”
With a huff, Matt rolled away from Vic. “I don’t want to talk about Roxie.”
Confusion flashed across his lover’s face, then Matt turned his back to Vic. He punched his pillow into shape before throwing himself down onto it, angry for no real reason at all. Angry at Vic for not being able to read his mind and see what he needed to hear his lover say. Angrier at himself, if he were being honest, for taking that ability away from them. And fucking livid at Dr. Whatever-the-hell-his-name-was for starting this whole mess in the first place.
Behind him, he heard a soft sigh that pissed him off even more. Matt hunched his shoulders against the sound, trying to ignore his lover. But he heard the rustle of the magazine, felt the bed move under him, and despite his anger, his body relaxed when Vic’s hand stroked down over his shoulder to trace the curve of his arm beneath the blankets. Warm breath sighed into his ear, igniting his blood. “Matty.”
In a voice that sounded childish to his own ears, Matt muttered, “You’re supposed to be thinking of me.”
“I am,” Vic assured him. That hand reached his elbow, then dropped to his hip. He felt his lover’s body spoon against his, and Matt pulled his legs up to curl into himself, keeping Vic out. “Matty, you know I’m always thinking of you.”
With a pout, Matt admitted, “I used to know it. I’m not so sure any more.”
Vic sighed. “Nothing’s changed between us. I promise. I love you.”
For a long moment, Matt didn’t reply. He knew Vic wanted to hear the words back, and any other time Matt would’ve given in, rolled over into his lover’s embrace, and let his anger disperse. But at the moment he was too mad at himself for letting Dr. Veej talk him into that stupid cock ring that he didn’t think he deserved to be loved. Especially by a man as warm and tender as Vic.
“I just wanted to protect you,” Matt said in a small voice. He pulled the blankets tight around him and wished he could disappear. “I didn’t…God, Vic, I didn’t mean for this to happen. To lose a part of us. I didn’t think it’d be gone so soon.”
An arm encircled his waist, hugging him back against Vic’s strong chest. Matt let himself be held, though how Vic could continue to feel anything for him when he had ruined what they had together, he didn’t know. “I should just take the damn thing off,” Matt grumbled. “Just say the hell with it and get used to the fact that I may end up killing you with some stupid power eventually. I love you so much, Vic. I don’t want to lose you, any part of you. I want to keep you safe but I want you back inside my head, and I don’t see how we can have both.”
Warm lips kissed the back of his neck. “You said yourself we could take the ring off sometimes.”
Matt sighed. “But when we use it again, and we lose the power that links our minds together? It’ll be like dying a little each time. I don’t think I could do that very often. I don’t even know what position gives us that connection.”
“The telepathy was always there,” Vic told him. “From day one, it was the first power you gave me, remember? The super strength came next, and no matter what else I got, those two remained the same. Maybe…”
Matt heard the hope in his lover’s voice and turned in his embrace. Their faces were inches apart, and Matt searched Vic’s eyes for some clue to his thoughts. “Maybe what?”
With a shrug, Vic said, “The doctor said the powers were in your sperm, right? So maybe most of your cum carries the genes or whatever for the powers that come and go, and they’re activated when they’re drawn up into your dick during sex. By the time you shoot a load, the sperm are already activated, right? And it stands to reason, really, if the position makes the powers change, that something in your position must trigger it, right?”
Though Matt couldn’t see where his lover was headed with this, he nodded. His cock stirred as he stared at Vic’s face, the shape his mouth made while speaking, the gleam in his eyes that matched the shine of light off his bald pate. The fact that his lover was trying to sound clinical talking about the powers—and, by saying things like cum and dick and shoot a load, failing miserably—was too damn cute.
Even without a mental connection, Vic picked up on Matt’s changing mood. Above the bed sheet, his hand drifted down over Matt’s stomach to knead the stiffening cock beneath his fingers. Each stroke made Matt shiver in delight.
Vic leaned down to kiss Matt’s temple. “What I’m trying to say is, maybe it’s only a small part of your cum that gives me the telepathic abilities or the super strength. So every time we have sex, no matter how we do it, those two powers are constantly updated, in a way. And maybe the cock ring has such a strong electrical signal that it negates everything, not just the bad sperm but all of it.”
“So how do we get the good powers back?” Matt wanted to know. When Vic’s fist closed around his cock through the sheet, he gasped and caught his lover’s wrist in both hands to hold it in place. “Don’t stop. That feels wonderful.”
Firm fingers tightened around him. “Maybe if there were some way to tone down the signal,” Vic said. “Let what we want pass by unharmed and zap all the others. Maybe…”
Matt knew what Vic was trying to say. Maybe Dr. Veej could adjust the cock ring’s electronic frequency somehow, let some of the sperm survive. Because
Lord knew he wanted back inside Vic’s head. He wanted his lover’s thoughts wrapped up in his again. Fuck “normal” relationships…he wanted that psychic link, that unbreakable bond that made everything so loving and effortless between them.
He needed it.
Matt turned and pressed his mouth to Vic’s. “Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow,” he murmured, spreading his legs wide. He wanted Vic, right this instant. Pulling his lover close, he whispered, “Love me.”
As usual, Vic obliged.
* * * *
There had been one time in the past when Matt had lost the power to communicate telepathically with Vic. It was the only time they’d reversed roles in bed—Matt had never been topped during sex, and could think of no other way to give himself completely to Vic than to lose the last remaining vestiges of his virginity to his lover. But when Vic came in him, he somehow transferred the powers back to Matt, and it made him violently ill the next morning. To make matters worse, the telepathy they shared had been severed, cancelled out almost, and the silence that had filled Matt’s head was frightening. That time, the connection came back on its own, and they agreed never to do that again. Vic didn’t like pitching, anyway. He enjoyed the role of catcher all too well. Or, as he put it, “I need to feel you in me to get me off.”
How could Matt argue with that?
He had assumed the telepathy they shared would fade over time when they used the cock ring; that was to be expected. But to lose it so suddenly, so completely, all at once? It left Matt feeling isolated and cut off, a castaway on a deserted island, marooned with nothing but his own thoughts. If he took the ring off and made love to Vic, he knew he wouldn’t have the willpower to put it back on the next time they had sex. He wouldn’t want to. And it was useless then, wasn’t it? If he didn’t use it?
These thoughts circled through his head the next day at work, distracting him. Unfortunately, he didn’t have many duties to keep him from thinking the same things over and over again. At one point he decided to call Dr. Veej and see what could be done to adjust the cock ring’s transistor. He stood in front of his locker for several minutes, rooting through the pockets of his jacket for the business card he knew he’d seen recently, but it didn’t turn up. A glance at the listing for Armour Labs in the phone book proved just as useless—the phone numbers for the business covered a page and a half of small, cramped print, and there were five separate lines for Research and Development alone. Matt couldn’t even remember the doctor’s last name, so calling the numbers to try and track him down would probably prove futile.
